Evangel Notes: Requiem for a World
by AlfheimWanderer
Summary: What if Second Impact had not only damaged the ecosystem, but had killed the ability of the world to sustain life? What if it had woken a long slumbering terror from beyond the stars? And what if the Angels were not the only foes to be fought? AU
1. Lingering Echoes

**Evangel Notes: Requiem for a World**

A Neon Genesis Evangelion / Angel Notes Crossover

Disclaimer: In this particular universe, I do not own or in any way shape or form hold a claim to Neon Genesis Evangelion, Angel Notes, Kara no Kyoukai, any other elements of the Nasuverse, or any other modern works that I may reference in this story.

In 2000 AD, the cataclysm known as Second Impact destroyed most of the Southern Hemisphere, a global catastrophe that brought modern civilization to its knees. Fifteen years later, things have only become worse, with the mortally wounded world caught in its final throes: the continents cracking and tearing apart from massive tectonic shifts, crops refuse to grow, animal life has become all but extinct, and the very air is filled with "Grain" or "True Ether", a substance that has reduced birth rates near to nothing, on top of proving violently toxic to anyone born before Second Impact.

In the face of this, humanity clings to survival due to its tenacity, scraping away at the edge of the darkness with fire, using every ounce of its creativity and technological ingenuity to stave off the end – using medicines and supplements to help adapt to the dying world, air purification devices to filter the toxins from their dwellings, environmentally controlled geofronts for rebuilding their devastated cities and raising what crops they can.

But things are about to take a turn for the worse, as the Angels begin to awaken from their aeons-long slumber in the watery depths, and last gasps of the dying world have reached the Aristoteles, vast and alien powers drifting in the void of space—beings without rules, without minds, without the concept of death itself, who come in response to Earth's last wish—that humanity, which slew her, might follow her unto oblivion.

" " denotes speech

_'italics'_ denotes thought

**'bold'** denotes location names

_**'bold italics'**_ denotes skill use

* * *

**Ground Zero – Second Impact, 2000 AD**

Long ago, when humanity first arose upon the Earth, Gaia, the Spirit of the World, attempted to create a Type-EARTH creature as an embodiment of her will to forestall what she foresaw as inevitable destruction by her errant children. But…she failed, as the long ago trauma of First Impact had rendered it unable to form an ultimate being – forcing her to call upon her fellow worlds for aid. But as each planet had a will of its own and its own common sense, most did not respond, with only Crimson Moon Brunestud (the ultimate being of the celestial body sundered from Gaia long ago) making her an offer, while ORT (Type-Mercury) simply landed at the tip of South America and fell silent, secluding itself in a death-like state, hidden from human sight for vast millennia, waiting till the stars were right.

Out of mortal minds and out of mortal memories, the spider rested in its otherworldly lair, with those few who dared disturb its slumber dying in an instant, and so was forgotten as it sank into its torpor. Civilizations rose and fell, mortals bred and reproduced and filtered 'cross the world. Strange aeons passed, and on a night when the stars were close and the crimson moon shone overhead, in the wake of Second Impact…

…a nightmare awoke…

A blood red sea, devoid of life – a place where the air itself is heavy and oppressive, saturated with a diffuse black glow harboring deep and ancient enmity, with jagged spires of ice rising from the crimson depths akin to the broken bars of a cage for a titanic beast. Bloody waves roiled, boiled, churned and toiled, crashing against one another in the aftermath of utter devastation, as if the world itself were hemorrhaging out the True Ether that it needed to live.

And on the surface of this lifeless sea, a fierce battle raged, with Archetype Earth, a striking woman clad in white and blue, standing against a certain gargantuan crystal spider, an eldritch abomination awakened from its aeons-long slumber by the power of the Second Impact.

"_**Alte Schule!"**_ she intoned imperiously, her eyes blazing golden in the corrupted gloom, long blonde hair streaming behind her like a banner as she focused her will—

_WHOOSH! _

—hurling an enormous vacuum wave towards her foe, an attack mighty enough to tear apart any of the normal enemies she encountered—including the most powerful of Dead Apostles or Demons Lords. In the blink of an eye, it closed the distance of hundreds of meters, slamming into the surface of the enemy—

"_**HNNNGGGGRRR!"**_

—but to no effect, as the blade of wind dissipated on contact with her enemy, as if nullified, leaving the shimmering hide of the Spider unscathed, with the creature itself seeming to focus its attention on her.

'_I should have expected as much, as this foe is not my usual fare,' _the White Princess of the True Ancestors thought to herself, lips set in a grim line as she _moved_, her body reacting instinctively at the first hint of danger, pulling back with the greatest retreat possible, twisting to the side—

_Fsh! Fsh! Fsh!_

—and only barely managing to avoid _one-two-three_ swipes from whips of liquid metal moving faster than the eye could track, freezing the air in its wake, and—

_Whoosh_!

—causing crystalline towers wrought of some unearthly material to erupt from the churning surface of the sea at the point of impact, razor-edges jutting out in all directions like a spider web of non-Euclidian design from which emanated a dissonant cacophony, a symphony of screeching nails and rent metal that drove the True Ancestor backwards.

'_Ugh…' _Arcueid Brunestud winced, stumbling backwards from the sudden onslaught to her senses, eyes sharp as she raised her left hand—and with a sharp slashing motion, loosed a pulse of slicing vacuum like a thousand blades of wind—

_CRASH! _

— tearing apart a potion of the strange and twisted crystal growths, though as her foe reacted, surging forward in a blur of motion to strike at her, silvery serpentine whip-blades erupting from its outer hide, shooting outwards in elegant arcs as they sped towards the isolated figure of the one who opposed it, seeking to skewer her where she stood—

_Whirr! Whirr! Whirr! Whirr!_

—striking only air as Archetype Earth seemingly teleported, a series of sonic booms trailing in her wake. It could not be described in any other words, that was how fast her movements were, seeming to warp space itself as she evaded every blow, glaring up at the creature she faced: a towering metal arachnid over 40 meters tall covered with a iridescent outer skin harder, more flexible, more temperature resistant—and sharper—than any other substance on the surface.

'_So this is ORT. The greatest of the Types in sheer physical power—no surprise that it was able to kill the Dead Apostle Ancestor which discovered it nigh instantly five thousand years ago,' _reflected the cold and merciless White Princess of the True Ancestors, the single most powerful being on the face of the Earth, whose golden eyes narrowed at the challenge to Gaia's order the Spider posed. _'Just by moving, it overwrites the Supreme Reality Marble of Earth with its __**Crystal Valley**__, creating a seed of its own world that cuts off what little backup I receive from Gaia.'_

And though Arcueid Brunestud had never before needed it to face down a foe, the White Princess of the True Ancestors was forced to admit she needed whatever assistance Gaia could provide, sparing though it was, given that the spirit of the world was frantically trying to staunch the grave wounds Second Impact had inflicted upon it.

'_Tis a pity that I do not possess the Knight Arm of the Crimson Moon, as that would be a great equalizer,' _she mused, recalling in her mind _Real World_, the demonic blade whose power embodied the purpose of the True Ancestors—to restore the world to its original state. A blade that, in other words, could simply negate the effect of Crystal Valley, removing her foe's terrain advantage. _'But as I do not have access to this weapon, this is an unnecessary thought, and anything unnecessary shall be removed.'_

_Evade._

There was no time for idle thought, no time for reflection or hesitation—

_Evade._

—the longer the battle raged, the more disadvantageous her position would become, as ORT's influence would grow, cutting off the power she had available—

_Evade._

—while the implacable destroyer from beyond the stars simply fulfilled its programmed objective—to eliminate all life on this dying world.

"Unacceptable,"Arcueid muttered contemptuously, even as she continued to move evasively, pushing her body to the limit to avoid being ripped apart by one of the colossal spider's ravening whipblades. "ORT must be stopped here."

But how?

As powerful as Archetype Earth assuredly was, having been created as a living weapon to hunt external threats to the order of Gaia, against this primal being summoned to bring forth the end, she was gravely outmatched. Indeed, at the moment, it was taking all she had simply to dodge the blows which came one after another without pause – downward slashes with the power of a meteor, horizontal slashes like a raging cyclone, streaks of silver against a bloody sky.

_Evade._

So…

_Evade._

…there was…

_Evade._

…only one thing to do.

**KILL.**

So in the momentary opening left in the wake of the enemy's attack, Arcueid Brunestud revealed her trump card, raising a hand in a gesture of power as she focused, drawing on every ounce of power she had available to activate her greatest skill—

"_**Alte Nägel**__**!" **_she intoned, the power of its true name shaking the very air as it was spoken.

Howling, screaming, wailing erupted from the air all around as a dislocation ran through space, an immense pillar of light and wind that sundered the heavens, drilling through space towards for the creature before her, seeking to overwhelm it with sheer power.

_SCREEEEEEEEEEE! _

It was an overwhelming attack, one that could not be avoided, could not be blocked—the signature attack of the Crimson Moon—shearing through everything in its path as if a tornado plowing through a garden of models—water, ground, air, and all!

_WHOOOSH!_

Everything, that was, save one, as Arcueid discovered to her annoyance as her body was batted aside, flung away by an overwhelming impact as ORT roared, its body somehow left without a scratch, as impossibly sharp lances of liquid silver raced forth from its form in a fierce counterattack, which—

_Whirr—squelch!_

—by a stroke of luck only skewered her through the gut, inflicting an agonizingly gruesome wound…but missing the chance to kill her immediately. Only a heartbeat later, she severed the weapon that had though from where she was struck, but already, it was too late, as the jagged edge left within burst into a frenzy of growth, exploding within her like fireworks as they further tore into her flesh, attempting to consume her from within.

"Ha…guh…"

The chill of rapidly approaching death—a feeling that Arcueid had never before known in the years she had existed, but one she felt now, for the first time.

A great irony, that, for it was said that True Ancestors were incapable of dying—that to kill them, one would need a conceptual weapon with the power to kill the world—a weapon which supposedly did not exist, meaning their deaths could not be caused by external factors. Yet Arcueid had been that external factor, a being created for the sole purpose of eliminating True Ancestors that had fallen…

'…_and ORT is more powerful than I…'_

It was only natural for it to be so, as ORT was the supreme being of another world, a creature that had eliminated all other life on its home planet through a strange instrumentality.

'_And Gaia is already gravely injured…'_

Though everything on Earth would instinctively turn on the Spider, time was on its side.

_Evade. Evade. Evade._

Was that truly all she could do? Just painfully avoid instantly fatal blows, while getting worn down, little by little?

_Slice! Cut! Slash!_

Her movements were slower now, less sharp, less precise, as her body began to seize up, becoming more and more rigid from the net of crystalline filaments.

_Squelch! Squick!_

The sound of ripping flesh, as the silvery blades hissed through the air, nicking her limbs, grazing her flesh, as the bloody waves below were frozen, the existence of water overwritten by an alien crystalline substance, beautiful but horrifying.

'_Ack…I…see…I cannot regenerate…my connection to the world is fading…I have barely enough power remaining to hold this body together…'_

Eaten through from within, the world around her being consumed from without, there was no chance of survival—even less a chance of victory.

'_Nevertheless, all will be concluded here, one way or another. If ORT is s__aid to be invincible as long as the battlefield is earth – shall we test that?__'_

Thus, for the last time, the White Princess of the True Ancestors steadied herself, pulling at every last scrap of power she could muster—as every cell within her caught fire, nerves letting out agonizing screams, her retinas cracking and drying as her heartbeat stopped, her form fading away into a mass of seething, crackling power, concentrating her essence for one last, desperate attack.

_Seeking_

It seemed a repeat of the time before, as the atmosphere all about wailed and screeched and churned, a vortex of supreme power compressing and accelerating more and more and more as her dying consciousness reached out towards something hidden fat beneath the waves…

_Seeking_

—as the infinite vectors of the air itself, the ocean that bounded the world, screamed in protest as they were forced together like superheated plasma, with the rules of probability being strained to the limit as the very particles of matter broke apart—

_Seeking…there!_

—erupting in a titanic flare like a pillar that tore apart the heavens, enough to pulverize any opposition on the face of the planet, a roiling wave of destruction that spread outwards from the zero point.

It was something ORT might otherwise have shrugged off, might have simply ignored…but in the moment before that attack hit—

_Crunch!_

—a long red spear, one with two shafts twisting around themselves to form a helix and then becoming straight, rose from the watery depths and slammed into ORT's underbelly with incredible force, its prongs tearing through the up to now impervious outer layer of the eldritch abomination.

This was_** Longinus**__ – _a weapon forged entirely of the Fifth True Theoretical Element, anathema to any spirit or creature reliant on True Ether—with the Types being the most notorious example of the latter—imposing a concept of natural life upon them and removing their invulnerability.

_Flash._

With a rumble that shook the world to its foundations, a flare of light brighter than a thousand suns erupted into being about ORT, as shockwaves of wind and light and plumes of unearthly heat slammed into the Spider, breaching its suddenly vulnerable shell and blasting it off the face of the earth, utterly destroying the form of Type Mercury, scattering what remained of its physical shell to the winds—all save the core, which, cushioned by the rest of the Spider's bulk, was merely ejected from the Earth's system at unthinkable speeds.

Thus ended the battle at the end of the world, a battle observed by only a solitary figure in the distance — a young girl sealed inside an escape pod, bleeding near to death from shock, saved only by the Crest scarred across her stomach, looking listlessly out a window.

How long the aftershocks rumbled, how much she was tossed by that final blow she did not know, knowing only that when all receded to darkness at last, leaving only a world of shadow pictures playing across her nigh-blinded sight, a brilliant moon was shining in the sky, illuminating the nothingness that remained in the wake of the first battle of the Aristoteles War.

**

* * *

**

**Train en route to Tokyo-3, 2015 AD**

Only an hour or so before dawn, an express train hurtled through the empty darkness of the night, carrying with it passengers from the island of Kyushu who sought a new life in the city of Tokyo-3, the most advanced city on the face of the Earth. They came in drips and drabs and dribbles, one by one, and two by two, each with their own motivations and aspirations—some wishing to take advantages of opportunities there for business, some to escape memories of that haunted them day and night, and some simply wanting to live in a place where their lives would not be in constant danger from the food they ate and the air they breathed.

One of these passengers was a troubled youth by the name of Shinji Ikari, a teenager in a simple white shirt and black slacks whose troubled eyes seemed fixed upon a letter in his lap—if a single sheet of paper with the word _**'Come'**_ written on it could be called a proper letter—listening to the eerie strains of Dmitri Shostakovich's 8th Symphony on his SDAT player, his mind clouded with thoughts of long ago days.

'_Father abandoned me when I was three, after mother died, leaving me standing cold and alone on a train platform on a rainy day, crying. He didn't visit, didn't return my letters, cast me aside—and now he wants me to come to him? He's probably just found another use for me…'_

The fact that there had been a picture of a strange woman enclosed with the letter only cemented this possibility in his mind, as it seemed that once again, Father wanted to pass him off to someone else.

"But I mustn't run away. I mustn't run away," he whispered hoarsely to himself, repeating it once for good measure. "Because if I run, I'll be just like…him. And I would have nowhere to go…"

The last Shinji added with an ironic twist, as he sat there, ruminating on why it was that he had been abandoned—and why it was that he was suddenly being called back, as he listened to a musical depiction of the horrors of the battlefield, an interlude as chilling, bleak, and astringent as the world outside.

'_It can't be because of…_that_…can it?' _ he thought with a stab of fear welling up in his secret heart as he recalled a certain incident little over a year ago, one that had shaken his—

_Warmth_.

The shock of slender fingers on his forearm caused Shinji to bolt upright, wincing as a white-hot pain exploded in his head as he did so, as the human head was not designed to move that quickly after long periods of inactivity. Several seconds later though, it had largely dissipated, or at least enough for the brown-haired boy to turn towards the one who had interrupted his rather melancholic thoughts—only to see the one he had boarded the train with—the daughter of the distant relatives he had stayed with.

"You really should have more confidence in yourself, Shinji-kun—you're ruining the mood," the girl said, long black hair falling about her face like water as she looked up from the book she was reading, her blue eyes filled with something odd as she regarded him, almost as if seeing someone else. "Or…don't tell me you're worrying about _that_ again."

"But—"

"That was not your fault," she continued, censuring him with a serious look, half-exasperation, half something else as she gave him an odd smile. "You need to stop blaming yourself for everything—it's actually a little arrogant to think you're responsible for all the evils in the world."

"…even though you got hurt trying to protect me, Mana?" Shinji asked quietly, swallowing as he remembered the sight and smell of her blood spilled out on the ground, remembered the—

"That was my choice—and what my family does…or at least, what my mother did," the girl remarked wryly, remembering a challenge that would have to put on hold, ever since her mother had disappeared. "And I can take care of myself, as you well know."

Her point was only accented by the air of nobility about the girl, who emphasized this with the midnight blue kimonos she had taken to wearing in the wake of her mother and father's disappearance, as well as the incredibly _sharp_ aura about her.

"You…have a point," Shinji was forced to admit, as every time the two of them sparred with shinai, he invariably ended up losing—though he didn't have the benefit of a self-hypnosis ability that enhanced his fighting ability when holding a sword—something that many bruises and bumps over the years had taught him was a major disadvantage. "It's just…"

"Feh…you're in a foul mood again, just like you've been since you received your Father's letter," Mana Ryougi pouted, looking mildly displeased at the depths of his melancholy, turning back to her book, _Tears of a Vampire. _

It wasn't as though she wasn't used to Shinji's occasional displays of moodiness, since his heart was fragile, like glass, and it had already been damaged by his father long ago—hence why the words 'Shinji Ikari' and 'extremely cheerful' didn't tend to go hand in hand—except when he was in the kitchen, of course.

"Sorry," Shinji apologized then, seemingly out of force of habit, only for the girl beside him to nail him with a baleful glare.

"We've talked about this," she pointed out succinctly, before turning back to her book.

"Sorry."

"You're doing it again," the girl commented, showing some signs of irritation now, wondering if he was really paying attention.

"So…" Shinji trailed off at a dirty look from the girl, as her eyes seemed to glow with enmity for a brief moment, before changing tactics. "…how's the book?"

"Nice save," his childhood friend quipped, rolling her eyes, before glancing down at the book again. "Oh? _Tears of a Vampire_ is a real work of art – I still say it's the best work Mitsuru-san has done, unlike the others, which are practically—"

"—a waste of resources, I know," Shinji filled in, having heard this particular rant before—several times too many for his liking. "So why do you have it now, when we're going to Tokyo-3?"

A distant expression flashed across Mana's face for the briefest of instants as she remembered a certain picture book author she used to spend time with in her childhood.

"Because I just wanted to get reacquainted with Mitsuru-san's strange quirks before seeing him in Tokyo-3," the young woman said after a few moments, her voice hard. "I'll be staying with him and Aunt Azaka there, since there's no point to me staying in Mifune with mother and papa both missing. You ca…"

But Mana cut herself off midsentence as she sensed a hint of something ominous, the air heavy with the sickly sweet stench of—

_Clatter!_

Her book fell to the floor as she rose to her feet in one smooth motion, a jet-black katana edged in blue light suddenly in her hand as if simply materialized from thin air, her clear blue eyes hard with resolve.

'_The Dead? Here? Azaka warned me that because of Second Impact and the reduced number of humans, ghoul activity was picking up, but this is…'_

A beat later, Shinji was on his feet as well, glancing warily over at his traveling companion.

"Mana, what's—"

_Thump! Thump! Shuffle!_

—and then he sensed it too, the hair on his nape of his neck standing on end as—

"Hyu! Hyu!"

—dozens of vampiric ghouls spilled through the doors of their otherwise deserted compartment at both ends, charging towards the two still living youths, apparently drawn in by the scent of young and supple flesh.

'_No…not again…not…'_

But there was no time to think, not with a number of the Dead coming at them from all directions, so Shinji did the only thing he could think of—

'_I mustn't run away. I mustn't run away. I mustn't run away.'_

—rising to his feet to stand back to back with Mana, his heart thudding in his chest at the sudden terror of death that swept over him. Still, there could be no escape when a train was in motion, so there was nothing to do—but fight.

_Slash, Slice—thump!_

Two corpses rushing towards the demon hunter girl were immediately bisected by a sweep of her ebon blade, their blood splattering across her clothes as she whirled to confront the ten ghouls immediately following the two, the twenty behind the ten.

"Hyu! Hyu!" came the snarl, as Shinji, simply stared at the oncoming Dead, as the twisted bodies of vampiric ghouls came closer, closer, closer, their hands reaching, reaching reach—

"AH!"

—but the first creature that came within a foot of Shinji Ikari was cut down by two blades wrought of a darkness deeper than black, an eerie substance that seemed to drink in light itself, edges crying out shrilly for a victim's blood, as—

_Slash! Slice! _

—they sang through the air, aimed to decapitate, to rend, to slice, to carve an enemy to pieces.

_Fsh—thud! _

The spray of fresh blood from a sliced open neck, gushing like a fountain, followed by a dried up head falling to the ground.

_Tap! Tap! Vzzzzzztt!_

Two steps from Shinji towards the enemy, blades sweeping out in a near trance state, as he plunged his blades through the chests of several more, shearing through muscle, skin, and bone before punching out their spines, dropping the enemies where they stood, a terrible smile overtaking his face as he charged, twin blades flashing in the dimness as he advanced…

'_Blood…blood…so much blood…'_

Mana, on the other hand, was not quite as reckless—instead moving with precise, deliberate movements as she countered the onslaught, each twitch, minor as it was, fraught with purpose and seemingly prepared in advance as she moved against her foes.

_Squelch! Fsh! Slash!_

If Shinji's was a reckless charge, Mana's attack was like a dance, her lithe figure surging forward through the train as the sounds of combat filled the air.

_Slice! Thud!_

A thump, as a limb was severed, then two more as a body was bisected, the individual halves falling to the ground—but not before another was skewered, and a third decapitated by a beautiful grim reaper, her katana carving jet-black arcs through the compartment as she inexorably advanced, mangled blood and viscera of her defeated foes crumbling to ashes in her wake.

_Swish!_

A creature seemed to come in close through her circle of control, leaping forward to rip out her throat, but the demon hunter simply ducked under the outstretched arm, her dark blade drinking in the violence of the scene to sustain itself as it carved through the undead monster from head to torso in one smooth _slash_—before whirling to literally rip apart a foe hiding behind the first.

Shinji's body tightened as a dried up skull appeared before his eyes, screeching out "Hyuu! Hyuu!" with the throat of this bag of bones, vibrating in accord with the ghastly voice, its fingers like needles digging into his neck, shredding the skin mercilessly, tearing—

_Slash!_

—but it never got the chance to finish what it started, as a brutal stoke of one of Shinji's twin blades literally disarmed the monster, while the other lopped off its head, emitting an unearthly keening all the while as it drank in the lives of its foes.

_Slash!_

Eviscerate, disembowel, severing the limbs one by one, decapitating—so the Ryougi moved, a perfectly-rational, perfectly-logical berserker eliminating her prey with extreme prejudice, spitting them on the edge of her terrible swift sword.

_Thunk!_

A hand fell to the floor, as a blade shoved into the face of another ghoul as its face literally exploded, a second slashing up from groin to upper torso. Whirling to carve one apart across the gullet, the spray of blood like a fountain as it gushed out in force.

…and then after several frenetic minutes, the explosion of violence was over, leaving the train car filled near to overflowing with the pieces of corpses dissolving into ash, ash that thankfully soaked up much of the blood that had been spilled earlier.

Two Children were left standing in the midst of this carnage, the blades in their hands quieting as they warily glanced around the enclosure, their breathing slowly returning to normal after an unexpected bout of combat, with Shinji nearly stumbling on the blood-slicked floor as he dissolved his blades, the slightly maddened expression leaving his face as he did so, his minor wounds already healing.

"Mana, are you…?"

"Stay here," the Ryougi ordered, no playfulness on her face or in her voice, her jet-black katana grasped firmly in hand as she cocked her head, catching the sound of shuffling feet in the distance. "I'm going to go forward a few cars and make sure the infestation is gone—I don't want to deal with another attack before we arrive."

Reluctantly, but knowing it wouldn't do any good to argue with her when she was like this, Shinji looked around the area where they had been sitting, noting to his relief that his SDAT was safe—though it seemed that Mana's book was not, its cover stained with the ichor of the ghouls that had attacked them.

'…_somehow, this wasn't what I had in mind when I agreed to come to Tokyo-3…certainly not having to…'_

His mental voice trailed off as Shinji simply stared at the place where Mana had been moments before, hoping that she would be alright.

**

* * *

**

**Train Platform, Tokyo-3**

It was thankfully without further consequence that the blood-splattered forms of two teenagers disembarked onto the arrival platform of Tokyo-3, wary for any sudden movements or strangeness that might signal the presence of the Dead, or things worse than the Dead, with Mana keeping watch, while Shinji went to make a phone call to contact the one assigned to meet him.

'_It's quiet…too quiet…something is wrong…' _the Ryougi thought, not liking the utter stillness in the air, an artificial, oppressive stillness that was an ill-fated omen of things to come. _'…and my book was ruined too.'_

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

In the silence, her eyes darted towards the source of the sound, instantly tensing—only to relax at the sight of Shinji, apparently having returned.

"Well?" Mana asked, somewhat impatient and wanting an update on the situation. It wasn't as if she had eyes that could see the fate of all things, after all, though those would undoubtedly be convenient in this situation.

"Out of order due to a special emergency," Shinji quoted, wearing a troubled expression on his face as he looked back at the phone. "I knew it…I shouldn't have come."

A moment of silence as Mana shot him a glare, wordlessly hinting that it was meaningless to complain now that things were done and they were here.

"R—right," Shinji said after a moment, regaining his composure. "Should we head to the shelters then?"

"Oh? We don't even know what's…."

A sudden howling of the wind, and shaking of the earth, as an immense, vaguely humanoid creature emerged dripping from the sea, with bony structures emerging on its shoulders and torso, strange hands, a distinctive beaked face that struck terror into the minds of all that saw it—and a glowing orb located prominently on its chest—

**Shudder. Shudder. Shudder. **

—it's footsteps causing the world itself to tremble.

"Augh….!" Shinji gasped, nearly falling to his knees as a spike of pain shot through his at the sight of this creature and its unearthly cry, but barely managing to stay standing.

"Shinji-kun, are you…?"

"It's that…" he whispered, forcing himself to remain upright, watching the figure in the distance, his eyes on the edge of wildness. "It's that…"

_Screech!_

But Shinji was interrupted by the ear rending sound of screeching brakes, with both blood-splattered teens walking gingerly towards the street side of the platform, blinking twice at the sight of skid marks being burned into the street as a bright blue Renault Alpine A310 spun nearly out of control, then corrected itself, coming to a halt parallel to the platform. Moments later, a certain purple-haired Captain Misato Katsuragi (which they recognized from the photograph sent to Shinji), Director of NERV Operations emerged from within, her eyes immediately falling on the figures of the Children—and doing a double-take as she saw them covered in blood.

'…_what exactly happened on the way here?'_

"The Third Child…and another…the Fourth? Must we have these children fight our battles for us?" Misato muttered to herself, before shaking her head, putting the thought from her mind. The Third she was expecting, and…

"Captain Katsuragi, I presume?" Mana inquired in a business-like tone of voice, taking a step forward as if to shield Shinji in case it proved necessary.

"Yes, and you must be Mana, correct?" NERV's Director of Operations acknowledged, looking quickly at the colossal lifeform in the distance, one that was beginning to approach, even as the UN Military moved to intercept—an effort she knew would fail. "Quick, both of you…get in."

"What…is that thing?" Shinji asked as he moved to comply, his voice seemingly strained as his eyes tracked the progress of the giant in the distance.

"…an enemy of mankind," the sole witness to Second Impact intoned, her voice frosty as what used to be Antarctica. "We call it…an Angel."

* * *

**A/N**: And so...it begins. The Angel War...and the War against the Aristoteles.


	2. Ravening Chaos

**Evangel Notes: Requiem for a World**

A Neon Genesis Evangelion / Angel Notes Crossover

Disclaimer: In this particular universe, I do not own or in any way shape or form hold a claim to Neon Genesis Evangelion, Angel Notes, Kara no Kyoukai, any other elements of the Nasuverse, or any other modern works that I may reference in this story.

In 2000 AD, the cataclysm known as Second Impact destroyed most of the Southern Hemisphere, a global catastrophe that brought modern civilization to its knees. Fifteen years later, things have only become worse, with the mortally wounded world caught in its final throes: the continents cracking and tearing apart from massive tectonic shifts, crops refuse to grow, animal life has become all but extinct, and the very air is filled with "Grain" or "True Ether", a substance that has reduced birth rates near to nothing, on top of proving violently toxic to anyone born before Second Impact.

In the face of this, humanity clings to survival due to its tenacity, scraping away at the edge of the darkness with fire, using every ounce of its creativity and technological ingenuity to stave off the end – using medicines and supplements to help adapt to the dying world, air purification devices to filter the toxins from their dwellings, environmentally controlled geofronts for rebuilding their devastated cities and raising what crops they can.

But things are about to take a turn for the worse, as the Angels begin to awaken from their aeons-long slumber in the watery depths, and last gasps of the dying world have reached the Aristoteles, vast and alien powers drifting in the void of space—beings without rules, without minds, without the concept of death itself, who come in response to Earth's last wish—that humanity, which slew her, might follow her unto oblivion.

" " denotes speech

_'italics'_ denotes thought

**'bold'** denotes location names

_**'bold italics'**_ denotes skill use

* * *

**Misato's Car, En Route to Geofront, Tokyo-3**

With the whoosh of ignition and the momentary screams of the sonic barrier as it was torn asunder time and time again, scores of missiles tore through empty space from the rocket pods of VTOL gunships, laying down skinny white contrails to mark the wake of their passing as they vectored to and fro to avoid any possible point defense—before engaging sprint mode, hurling themselves towards the hulking figure of the Third Angel with extreme prejudice—

_Shudder! Crash!_

—blossoming into fiery explosions that whitened the morning sky, the flame and smoke belched from the myriad detonations up obscuring the Angel's form, to the cheers of the crews of the gunships, who thought their foe destroyed. After all, nothing known to man could survive an onslaught of enough fuel-air explosive to tear apart a mountain—

"_**Nnnnghhhhh!"**_

—or so they thought, only to be proven wrong as the hideous monstrosity emerged from the storm of shrapnel and fuel-air explosives unscratched, seeming to glare at the humans on their gnat-like gunships with its skull-like mask—

_Scree—Boom!_

—before contemptuously sweeping the nearest of the pests from the sky with a lance of molten light that erupted from one arm, its inexorable advance continuing as the gunships kept up their fierce but ultimately futile bombardment, with the shorn apart fuselages and flaming debris raining down upon the city below—which, unfortunately for Misato and the Children, was the only way to reach an access point for the Geofront.

Naturally, the two blood splattered teens sitting in Captain Katsuragi's Renault Alpine A310 were not exactly pleased with this—or at least Mana wasn't, with Shinji seeming somewhat distracted by the presence of the Angel, his clouded eyes tracking the titanic creature as it moved ponderously through the city, sowing destruction in its wake.

'…_it's that…it's that…it's that…'_

Shinji's mind cycled through those words, a mantra of madness echoing with every move the creature made, as little shocks of pain coursed through his body, his heart hammering in his chest as he sought to calm it with reason—but found that his instincts spurned reason, instead freely spreading confusion and terror as he found himself breathing hard.

"Uurghh," Shinji groaned aloud, wincing as the Angel loosed its energy lance, as if he could feel the disturbance in the flow of Ether, an odd sensation that only synergized with a sense of nausea as he forced himself to remain still in his seat.

"Are you all right, Shinji-kun?" Mana whispered seriously from the seat beside him, eying her companion with concern as she placed two fingers on his arm to measure his stress levels. For she had noticed how tense he was—how tense he had been from the moment the Angel had revealed itself, a reaction she had never quite seen before from him. Fear, trepidation, anxiety, yes…but not quite like this, at least when the boy in question wasn't faced with having to enter a large body of water.

'_Even if he _can_ actually swim…' _the girl thought ironically, her eyes looking between the boy sitting next to her and the war zone outside. _'Though I suppose I might have something to do with that…'_

"I'm…fine," Shinji managed to get out with a weak smile, closing his eyes in an attempt not to have to be aware of what was happening, as outside,the implacable behemoth continued to advance, even as the UN Forces pressed their attack, tank battalions shooting concentrated barrages of shells, gunships launching conventional missiles, micromissiles, storms of lead—all to no visible effect, save to scatter more debris in the path of the car and hamper visibility.

In the driver's seat of the car, Captain Misato Katsuragi was concentrating hard to get her charges (and herself) through the chaotic battlefield alive, swerving around abandoned cars and the flaming wreckage of destroyed VTOLs with every bit of skill and instinct she had.

'_I am far too sober for this…_' she thought to herself, grabbing hold of a Yebisu Beer she had left and taking a deep swig, as the cool liquid went down her parched throat. _'Ah...that's better…'_

_Scree! Vroom!_

The squeal of burning rubber rent the air, with smoke rising from new tire treads imprinted on the streets as Misato narrowly avoided another hulking piece of wreckage that crashed into their path, the car seeming to spin out of control—and then realigning itself along a straightaway.

'_Ok, I need to get things ready…' _she thought, retrieving her cell phone.

"I need a train car prepared at the nearest Geofront access point, Priority One status," the purple-haired officer spoke aloud, voice clipped and efficient. "A linear one—I have the Children with me. Right. I understand, bye."

Hanging up and putting away the cell phone, Captain Katsuragi spared a glance backwards at the Children, only to frown slightly as she looked over them and once more noticed the dried blood caked onto their clothing.

'_But none of it their own, apparently, if they're able to keep moving like this…'_

"So do I want to know what happened on the train to Tokyo-3?" NERV's Director of Operations asked wryly, addressing her question to the raven-haired Ryougi, since the Third Child seemed somewhat…out of sorts. "Or why you two are covered in blood?"

"You probably don't, actually," Mana Ryougi responded rather archly, though she added a rather snarky-if true statement to it a moment later. "Though would you believe me if I said vampires?"

The older woman was silent for a moment, her features hardening as she caught the last word the girl had said.

'_Vampires…have the Dead Apostles finally grown desperate enough to move on Tokyo-3?'_

"Vampires, you say," Misato repeated slowly, raising a single eyebrow as the word registered. "And you fought them off somehow?"

Mana opened her mouth to respond, but—

_BOOM!_

—NERV's Director of Operations was distracted from continuing her interrogation by a rather larger explosion in the distance drew her eye—followed by a blinding flash of white as the Third Angel unleashed a powerful crucifix-shape blast that effortlessly wiped out the tank battalions that had been assailing it.

'_It's only to be expected that conventional weapons would fail,' _Captain Katsuragi thought grimly, shaking her head as she fought the wheel for control against the ground tremors kicked up by this latest onslaught. _'The Angels are ancient beyond humanity itself, with the air of mystery that confers—and a greater mystery trumps a lesser. Most of the time, anyway.'_

"Katsuragi-san," Shinji spoke up, his voice strained with effort as he looked off into the distance, noticing how the air force all seemed to be retreating. "Why are the VTOLs veering off like that?"

Now, being rather familiar with the tactics of a conventional air force, Misato felt a chill race down her spine as her mind ran through all the possible scenarios for why they might be breaking off their attack—before settling on one possibility she would rather not entertain but seemed all but cert...

"Wait, it can't be...they're going to use an N2 bomb?" she gasped, eyes widening as she reached for her can of Yebisu once more, downing another swig. _'Definitely not sober enough for this.'_

To her annoyance, she was proven right, as a demonic roar ripped through the air, a column of light rising into the sky from the point of impact, with only a handful of seconds left to her before the shockwave swept over them, Shinji whimpering in sympathetic pain, teeth clenched tightly, breathing ragged…

'_Can I risk it? Well, it's not as if I have a choice…the Children are here…and I still have 33 loan payments left on this car__**…'**_

"…_**Mauer!" **_

Misato barked a single word of command, an ancient set of scars on her stomach glowing for an instant as the air around the car rippled and congealed, forming into a glass-like barrier—

_Whoosh!_

—just in time to divert the worst effects of the blast, keeping the blistering heat and pressure at bay, though—

'_It's not enough?'_

—there was an extended moment of terror as the car was savagely tipped to one side, lurching into the air—and then it passed, with the wheels making contact with the ground with a violent _crash_!

As the car continued moving without any unforeseen consequences, such as breaking apart, flipping over or exploding due to a ruptured fuel line, the purple-haired captain let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

'_At least it's still working…but still, the repair costs…I just finished restoring this car too…'_ Misato groused mentally, slamming her foot down on the accelerator petal, as the car drifted through a hairpin turn with an ear-piercing _screeee!, _as the vehicle was once more pointed in the right direction to proceed to NERV HQ. _'This has been a terrible day…at least the reinforcement worked_, _or else_—_'_

"So you're a magus, Captain Katsuragi?" Mana asked quietly, somehow not seeming particularly fazed by this. Of course, given who her mother was, and that she was familiar enough with magecraft thanks to a certain puppetmaster who sometimes came to Mifune on business…

"You catch on quickly, don't you?" the purple-haired Captain asked wryly, a question for a question. Given that she had just used her Crest in front of the two Children, it was probably inadvisable to lie…at least, if she wanted to build any sort of trust. "Call me Misato—both of you. And no, before you ask, I'm not with the Association."

"…not with the Association?" Shinji repeated, seeming a little more coherent now that the Angel had been forced into temporary immobility. "Then who…?"

"The special agency NERV — a secret organization directly attached to the United Nations," Misato explained, on more or less full disclosure. "You know of it, right, Shinji-kun?"

"Isn't that the one your father belongs to? The one he sent us ID cards for?" Mana asked of Shinji, receiving only a small, puzzled nod in answer as the boy sighed, his thoughts taking on a somewhat darker cast.

'_I knew it…father would only send for me if he wanted me for something,'_ the Third Child mused, a flicker of naked pain seeming to flash across his face, though on a second glance, it was gone.

"So is there something Father wants me to do?" he voiced in a monotone, resigned to the fact that even his father never wanted him for who he was, just for something he might be able to do. _'Which is probably the reason I was cast away many years ago—because I was useless to him. Though what have I learned that would…no...it can't be...'_

"So you find him cold…so do I," Misato sympathized, her even tone cutting through Shinji's troubled jumble of thoughts. Shaking her head slightly, she steered the car into a sheltered tunnel, one of the access ways to NERV Central, watching as large blast doors slid open to permit her access, and then closed behind the vehicle. "Do you know what your father does?"

"An important job protecting humanity, or so one of my teachers said," Shinji replied dutifully, thankful for the distraction, with Mana slowly nodding beside him, somewhat relieved as her friend seemed to be in less pain now.

"That's right," Captain Katsuragi replied as the linear train went into motion, conveying the car, passengers and all, down into the depths of the GeoFront. "Tokyo-3 is the headquarters for NERV, the foundation for the rebuilding of the world…and a fortress for the human race."

* * *

**Maze of Corridors, NERV HQ, Tokyo-3**

To most newcomers, the vast complex of NERV HQ, with its metallic passageways, convoluted walkways, and twisted corridors that seemed to run one into the other would seem…_confusing_, to say the least, though some might well use the words daunting, intimidating or downright malevolent—and this was under normal circumstances.

"Red alert! All hands to battle stations! Repeat, red alert!" a female voice blared over the intercom, red lights in the base flashing in time with the klaxon signal of imminent danger. "All hands to battle stations! Prepare for ground interception of the enemy."

Such was what Captain Katsuragi and her two charges were subjected to upon exiting the lift from the car park, a situation that immediately set nerves on edge, with the Director of NERV Operations looking between two corridors, choosing a direction, and setting off—only to come face to face—or rather, knee to face, with Experimental Subject BX293A – that is, the hot-water penguin known as PenPen.

"Wark! Wark! Wark!" the flightless bird squawked, retractable claws extending as it gestured insistently towards a third hallway that Misato had overlooked, causing the purple-haired woman to halt in her tracks, a look of embarrassment crossing her face as she realized her mistake.

"You're saying that Ritsuko is waiting at the end of this hallway, and that's she's not happy with me?" Misato interpreted from the gestures and tone of the penguin – a being created from one of the earliest of the A-Ray experiments as a genetically modified creature better able to live upon the dying world.

"Wark!" PenPen acknowledged, nodding once and crossing his flippers for emphasis as he looked up at his master with his beady green eyes.

"…yeah well, why doesn't she try driving through that battlefield and coming out alive," the purple-haired woman muttered with a grimace, before shaking her head resignedly. "Alright then, lead the way, PenPen."

"Wark!" the hot-springs penguin acknowledged once again, turning and waddling in the direction he had indicated, moving at a clip rather faster than most would think a penguin capable of (on land, at any rate).

Glancing behind her, Misato became quite aware of two sets of eyes watching her strangely, as if reconsidering their initial opinion of her, and not in a good way.

"Hey, come on, don't look at me like that," the Katsuragi magus spoke, looking somewhat irked. "I'll have you know that PenPen is a very intelligent penguin and is perfectly capable of understanding human speech."

"Oh, I see," Mana noted, connecting the dots in her mind. "So the penguin is your familiar?"

"You've definitely been around magi before if you have a working knowledge of familiars," Misato noted clinically, making a note to herself to study the Fourth Child's background in a little more detail. And the Third's, come to think of it, since the two had been living together in Mifune for several years now, under the care of one of the more well known families there. "Short answer: yes."

It was only a short while later that the group encountered a waiting Dr. Ritsuko Akagi, the rather irritated bottle-blonde who served as the head of Project E.

"Ah! H—hi, Ritsuko..." Misato said nervously, attempting to disarm her colleague's ire before another lecture started. After all, she was still fairly new to the organization, so for her to get lost again, especially after a hectic, disorienting drive aboveground, was perfectly understandable, right?

Not surprisingly, the genius scientist didn't exactly agree.

"What took so long, Captain Katsuragi? We are short on both hands and time, and the situation outside is critical," the bottle-blonde broke in, reprimanding her sometimes friend and coworker. "It's a good thing I had PenPen waiting at the nearest lift, otherwise you would have gotten lost again, wouldn't you?"

"Sorry..." the Director of NERV Operations replied sheepishly. When Ritsuko had a point, she had a point, and this was one that Misato certainly couldn't deny.

"These are the two, then?" Dr. Akagi asked brusquely, giving the two blood-splattered teens a quick once-over.

"Yes," Misato confirmed, shifting to a much more business-like demeanor. "According to the report of the Marduk Institute, these are the Third Children and Fourth Children."

"Nice to meet you," Ritsuko said, nodding to both of them in turn.

"A pleasure to meet you as well, ma'am," Mana returned professionally,

"Ah…yes," Shinji said, returning the gesture after a moment, almost as an afterthought.

"Rather like your father, aren't you?" Misato asked of the Third. "Neither of you are very sociable."

* * *

**Evangelion Deployment Bay, NERV HQ, Tokyo-3**

He stood in the center of a massive room of white, one large enough and textured smoothly enough that he could not see the walls or boundaries of the room –leading to a rather disorienting effect. In fact, even knowing where the entrance was, he would be hard pressed to locate it again, though Shinji Ikari's attention was understandably not focused on the room itself—but on the two battlesuits sitting in the middle of the room, lit from below by lights, and fitted with a variety of tubes and wires.

"These are the multi-purpose Humanoid Assault Armors code-named EVANGELION, developed by humanity for the war against the Angels," Dr. Akagi related, going over the specifications in her mind. "Specifically, these are Eva Units-00 and 01, the prototype and Test-type versions, the ultimate result derived from a fusion of several confluences."

As rather advanced combat exoskeletons, the Evangelions were designed to vastly improve the strength, speed, agility, reflexes and durability of the user. On the technological side alone, they were composed of a multilayered alloy of remarkable strength and augmented with a refractive coating capable of dispersing a limited amount of directed energy, in addition to a layer of liquid metal crystal that amplified force, tripling lifting capacity and increasing reaction time by a factor of ten (aided by the fact that its control system was neural-linked). Hardened against EMP and radiation, with filters completely effective at removing toxins and bacteria from local atmosphere, and featuring an uplink to the MAGI for communication, health monitoring and restoration, it was considered the premier battlesuit on the face of the planet.

The rest, Ritsuko was not at liberty to describe, but curiously enough, despite their advanced origins, the Evangelion armors reminded Shinji of nothing so much as two suits of medieval armor, one colored a stark, matte black, while the other was gunmetal grey accented here and there with blue highlights.

"This…this is Father's work?" the Third Child asked, finding his voice after several moments just lost in thought, as a sense of familiarity nagged at him, as if there was something here he should recognize, but could not.

_Snap-hiss!_

But, he had no time to ponder this, as a heretofore unseen panel in the upper part of the room hissed open, with the rather sinister black-clad figure of Gendo Ikari, Supreme Commander of NERV, appearing in silhouette, backlit by a powerful white light.

"Correct," the shadowed one spoke, his gaze coming to rest upon the tense figure of his son. "It has been a long time…"

"Father…" Shinji whispered, features hardening as images of their final meeting in the rain flashed through his mind. He wondered what the one who abandoned him would say next, would give as an excuse for—

Unfortunately, any illusions that reconciliation might yet be possible were shattered by the Commander's actual words, the order to "Move out."

"Move out?" Misato questioned incredulously, looking up at where the Commander stood. "But Rei is in no condition to use Unit 00…" She trailed off as she recognized that the Commander wasn't kidding. "You plan to use the Third in Unit 01?"

"Of course," Dr. Akagi spoke up, turning to the Director of Operations. "And the Fourth in Unit 00."

"But even in the case of Rei Ayanami, it took her a full seven months to become acclimated to EVA," Misato protested. It wasn't that she didn't accept the necessity of having children use the battlesuits against the enemies—only that the odds of success in this case were so astronomically low that Ritsuko had dubbed it the Oni (for .0000000001 percent chance) system.

"We don't have a choice, Captain Katsuragi," the bottle-blonde said with finality. "Stopping the Angel's attack has top priority. Besides, didn't you consider this outcome as a possibility when you delivered the Children to this location?"

"You may be right," Misato murmured, throwing the switch inside her mind to kill her emotions as she did before every battle. "In that case, Shinji Ikari, Mana Ryougi, please make preparations for launch. Dr. Akagi will walk you through putting on the Evangelion armors."

Knowing that it was futile to argue, and further knowing her duty in this case (given that they would die anyway, and that if nothing else, this would give them a fighting chance), Mana moved to comply, moving towards the gunmetal and blue suit of EVA-00. Shinji, however, had other ideas.

"Father, why did you call me here?" the Third Child all but demanded, his blue eyes meeting only the reflective surface of his father's orange sunglasses.

"For exactly the reasons you think" was the reply he received.

"Then," Shinji said, his body beginning to tremble with incredulous anger. "You mean I should get into the armor and fight that thing I saw? That thing which shrugged off an N2 mine?"

"Correct. Because no one else can," came the cool, impassive reply. "I called you now because I need you now."

"But I can't do this," Shinji insisted. "I've neither seen nor heard of this before, never fought anything like that…thing…before. So…why me?"

"And what about one year ago?" the rumbling voice of Gendo inquired, a question that sent a chill down the Third Child's spine.

'_A year ago?' _Shinji thought, digging back into his memory—and visibly stumbling as images of the past came to the forefront of his mind. Images of a silvery blade, a river, and… _'Blood…blood, oh god, so much blood. It can't…it can't…it can't…a year ago…I…I…I…'_

"No... I can't..." he said out loud, an expression of naked pain flashing across his face. "It's impossible!"

'_If I fight it…I'll die. I'll die…I'll…'_

**Rumble.**

Finally, after several long seconds, the Commander merely shook his head, as the base was suddenly rocked by a powerful blast.

"Third Child, if you're going to do this, don't waste time. Otherwise, leave," Gendo said at last, a final remark that silenced the room, with the scattered personnel within it looking on at the father-son dispute. "That thing seems to have found us."

**Rumble.**

Another quake this time, larger in intensity, one that sent Shinji to the ground as pain shot through his extremities, which Gendo took as a firm "no."

"Very well then," the Supreme Commander intoned, pressing a button to trigger the intercom. "Fuyutuski—wake Rei. The Third turned out to be useless."

But as activity raged about them, with maintenance crews hustling-bustling about, and Shinji finally picking himself off the ground, a single voice cut through the hubbub, one he knew all too well.

"Well then, Shinji-kun," came the electronically amplified voice of Mana Ryougi from inside the mobile armor of EVA-00, a voice tinged with resignation and not a little irony. "Then I'll just have to take your place again, won't I?"

At that, Shinji sprang to his feet and whirling about—only to see (and hear) his worst fears confirmed, as EVA-00, with Mana in it, was hurtled up on the launch platform to confront the Angel above—alone.

'_No…it can't be,' _he thought to himself, a terrible realization blossoming in his mind as Unit-00 disappeared from sight. _'Could it be that I…'_

(Un)fortunately for the hapless Third Child, his thoughts were cut off once again by the door hissing open, with the bandaged, critically injured figure of Rei Ayanami being wheeled in on a hospital bed, features utterly impassive as she observed her surroundings.

'_Wait…she's going to have to—'_

_**Crash!**_

A very powerful shockwave shook the room this time, as the Angel attacked again with one of its powerful blasts, its demonic roaring audible even from underground. The First Child was knocked to the floor, spilled from her bed by the quake, only able to watch as from above, the sound of whistling came as a piece of debris plummeted down, down, dow—

"Watch out!" Shinji barked, moving quicker than thought, and—

_Slash!_

—somehow managed to close the distance between himself and Ayanami, whirling in midair as he utterly destroyed the piece of the ceiling that would have otherwise cut into the form of the blue-haired girl, slashing it apart with twin blades conjured from the darkest shadows, vampiric blades that cried out shrilly for blood and devastation in the room of white.

Not a figure moved in the cavern in the wake of the sudden movement, with most surprised—and some afraid of the Third Child's demonstration of his abilities. None save for the Third Child, that was, who dispelled his blades to look down at the injured girl below him, whose body was tense with agony, with blood soaking through the bandages and…

'_A hint of crystal along one of her wounds…? Then its…its the sa-'_

"I'll do it."

A clear, determined voice rang in the silence, as Shinji spoke without conscious thought.

"What was that, Third Child?" Commander Gendo Ikari asked from his viewing platform. "Speak once more and make your intentions clear."

A minor pause, as Shinji glared up at his father, the agony evident on Rei's face mirrored upon his.

"I said, I'll do it," the Third intoned, voice hoarse, body trembling, but out of what, he wasn't sure. "I'll get into the EVA Armor—I'll fight against the Angel!"

The next few minutes were a blur, as Shinji found himself led to the battlesuit, where he was quickly instructed on the basics of using it, and helped into the combat exoskeleton by the many aides, a blur that came to an end with one word.

"Launch."

* * *

**Streets of Tokyo-3, VS Sachiel**

As the armored form of the Third Child hurled towards the surface for his confrontation with Sachiel, a journey that Mana had already undertaken minutes before, Shinji found that his body was acting rather strange, as if it was the first time he was going into battle, something he accepted with resignation, not surprise , as the monster before him was something that naught had been able to oppose…something he could not imagine defeating.

'_Guh...'_

Strange aches, pains, terrors shot through his veins as if filling every inch of him, screaming at him to run, to flee certain death—but he suppressed that with the mantra he found himself chanting every time he came into a situation he would rather not be in.

'_I mustn't run away…I mustn't run away…I mustn't run away…'_

Yet the body could not comprehend the reason why he thought this, why he thought it necessary to face certain death, and so could not suppress its reactions in the face of fear. Nature sent an impulse for the body to run away in the face of death—an impulse that was surely strong and accurate, having preserved the species for thousands of years. To go against this impulse was to go against the natural way, so it was only natural for the heart and breathing to lose composure, for the body to respond to this blasphemy by enraging itself, the beast within snarling as, embracing the paradox of destruction, Shinji accepted his likely demise.

Light.

There was no need for his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness, as a special filter in the battlesuit did that for him, in addition to splashing up icons in his view that showed him that he was but half a kilometer from his target, with EVA-00 already engaging, seeming like a gadfly against the massive bulk of the implacable angel.

'_So EVA can fl—'_

—his thought was left uncompleted as he flung himself into a run, six shadowy wings (like his blades) wrought of Ether emerging from the back of his armor and lifting him from the ground.

'—_y?'_

More than just a marvel of technology, the EVA units were a fusion of the best that alchemy, magecraft, and technology together were capable of producing—as demonstrated in this case, where it used the law of similarity to focus and amplify an Ether Liner's ability to manipulate the very Ether in the environment.

So focusing his will, Shinji flew, hurtling towards the Angel…

_Whirr! Vrrrrr!_

Having launched some time ago, deploying her ether-forged katana, Mana was finding the battle against the Third Angel every bit as difficult as she expected, what with the hulking figure much more agile than something that size had any right to be, not to mention its spontaneous generation of blades that had nearly skewered her a dozen times, yet her blue eyes were grim with resolve, as every part of her was focused on holding the Angel back—on stopping it even at the cost of her life. Because if she didn't, someone else would have to…

'_If I don't, then—'_

_Slam!_

An ominously glowing lance of violet energy hurtled towards her, something that couldn't be evaded—and which she barely blocked by interposing her blade with the weapon of her opponent—keeping her from being cut in half, as—

_Crunch!_

—she was smashed into the side of a building with enough force to crack the glass and stone of its construction.

"Kuh!" Mana groaned, willing the suit to move once more, barely lifting off and shooting away before—

_BOOM!_

—the building was utterly destroyed by a trio of cross-shaped blasts, with the ensuing shockwave nearly knocking her from the sky again, though she managed to pull back, avoiding the brunt of the attack, though the sheer amount of energy contained in it was enough to shake her nerves.

'_Such overwhelming power…' _the Fourth Child thought to herself, swallowing as she lifted her blade yet again, the jet-black katana in her hand flaring with blue fire as she shot through the air, using every ounce of control she had over the Ether element to avoid counterattack. _'But I won't give up…as long as I'm conscious, as long as my sword is in my hand…I can fight…'_

That she was conscious at all after that blow was a miracle in and of itself, since any ordinary human would have died—at least if they were unprotected. Even having prevented the lance of energy from piercing them through, the transferred momentum and force of impact would likely have crushed their organs to mush. Thankfully, one of the other effects of the gel/liquid metal layer built into the suit was to act as cushion, with the Ether layer projected around the armor diffusing some of the impact's force—with the material itself having been subjected to the strongest of reinforcement spells.

Slash, slash, slash, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut!

Again and again she darted at the monstrous foe, her blade crashing down again and again as approached a certain distance—and met resistance, the Angel blocking with some kind of shield of orange hexagons, as a voice in her ear babbled something about an AT Field.

'_I can erode it, since my blade slices into it, but—'_

_Vrr!_

—if she committed herself to the attack, putting everything she had into offense, Mana thought that might be able to get past the Angel's defenses, but…in the time it took for her to do so, one of the Angel's attacks would likely hit home.

'_But I don't have a choice,' _she thought bleakly, gripping her blade tightly, panting as she evaded yet another series of strikes from the hulking figure, a sweep of the lance, a blow of the hand, two cross-flares. _'No one is coming to help, and I can't keep this up much longer…'_

Combat, after all, was one of the most tiring things that a person could be engaged in, especially when one had to move excessively just to survive. As opposed to fighting the Dead, who all but threw themselves on her sword…this foe was on a completely different level, a being relentless and powerful, capable of using the same style of weapon she was, but on a higher order of ability.

Drawing every last scrap of energy she could from the air and from her body, Mana attacked one final time, the light of the sword in her hand building and converging as she streaked through the air, her blade stabbed down—

_Fzztt!_

—and vibrating as its power to disrupt defense warred against the light of the soul upon which no one might intrude.

'_Just a little more, just a little…'_

_Shatter! WHOOSH!_

Two things happened at the same time—the AT field, struck at a single point by a power the Angel had not expected, shattered like glass, but before Mana could close the final meters to the Angel's core, a powerful cross-flare struck her full on, hurling her away and dispelling her weapons.

'_No…No…NOOOOOOOO…'_

That was what Shinji arrived just in time to see—the stricken form of Mana being blasted by a cross-flare by his foe—and so, felt a stab of overwhelming hate and anger boiling up from within him like a thousand blades tearing through his soul.

Acting by instinct alone, the Third Child altered his course and dispelled his blades, shadowy wings flickering as he flashed towards the Fourth's plummeting form, taking care to match her downward velocity as he caught her in his arms and slowly—slowly, leveled out. For he knew like anyone else that it was not a fall that killed someone, but the shock of impact—and that for him to stop her suddenly would be the equivalent of her hitting the ground at terminal velocity—all the more so if he came up to meet her.

Or perhaps it was just instinct that knew this, though either way Shinji managed to pluck Mana's tumbling form from the air, noting with horror how burned through some of the armor was—the EVA battlesuit having taken too much damage to remain functional from that last assault because she had put every ounce of power she possessed into attacking the Angel.

'_Again…it happened…again…I…I mustn't run away. I mustn't run away…I MUSTN'T RUN AWAY!'_

Faster, faster, _faster_ he flew, setting Mana's fallen form gently down upon the tunnel to the entrance of NERV from where he had issued moments earlier, breathing a sigh of relief as the platform began to carry his friend back down into the darkness.

_Fsh!_

And then Shinji shot up into the sky once more, his twin blades extending to an extent greater than ever before as they responded to his will, their edges howling out of a maddened desire for blood as darkness infused his very soul.

"_**NNUUAAAAA!" **_the Third Child screamed, letting forth a savage wail that shook all those watching (and listening), his movements a blur as his shadow exploded from his form, blitzing for the Angel with all his might—

—only for the Angel to recognize him too, as a threat—perhaps even a bigger one than his erstwhile partner in arms, especially with its AT Field finally down, as it immediately cut loose with a flurry of slashes, generating another lance to repel the intruder into its space.

_Clash! Slam! Blam!_

Shadowy blades met glowing spikes of condensed energy, but could not break through, the Angel's superior mass and surprising speed lending its blows much more force than Shinji Ikari could manage to counter with, seeking to bat him back and—

_WHOOSH!_

—cut loose with another barrage of cross-flares, which the Third Child evaded, one after another, resorting to instinct alone as the brilliant light of the blasts blinded him, barely managing to escape the blasts as—

_Squelch!_

—he was skewered by a lance of light that cut through his protective armor and smashed into his gut, blowing away half his torso in an instant as he lost control of the Ether he was manipulating, the shock of overwhelming pain and cold shutting his body down as he coughed up blood, black spots dancing in his vision as he lost altitude, spiraling towards the ground below—

_Thud!_

—only to crash into the flat roof of a skyscraper with a painful crunch, feeling as if most of his body had been smashed apart. Having failed to stop the Angel, it was now only a matter of time before everyone in the city died.

_'No...I've failed...I've...'_

_Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump._

His bones creaked as he tried to put power into his limbs, almost as if they were made of metal, as consciousness faded, faded, faded, but as everything went black, he thought he saw a flash of red, as if light were glinting from a stone.

* * *

**NERV Bridge, Tokyo-3**

All was silent in the command bridge of NERV Headquarters as the gathered staff watched first the Fourth Child, then the Third, be utterly defeated in battle, their best efforts at resistance proven futile. The Children lay broken, mankind's defenses wrecked, and it seemed that the fifteen years of preparation for the threat of the Angels had merely gone to waste.

"What's...what's the status?" Misato found herself asking, all the while knowing that there could be no surviving a wound of that nature.

"The Evangelion armor is completely silent," the mousy Maya Ibuki, one of the bridge technicians, replied. "The uplink was apparently damaged by the last attack. Life or death unknown."

"Well, so much for that..." the Director of NERV Operations said with a heavy heart, bitter over the fact that they had failed and now would likely die. "Stop the operation, retrieval of the pilot has top priorit—"

_**"ARUUUAAAGGGGGNUARRGGHHHHHHHH!"**_

She was cut off as a bestial roar of pain and absolute rage sounded over the intercom, with one signal from the mobile armor apparently not cut off.

"Ma'am, anomalous energy flux detected..." Maya reported, as a spike in power made itself known. "Its...its the Third Child!"

"But that's..."

Word died in her mouth as she took in the visage of the Third Child in his Evangelion armor, a figure who as now standing once again, body wreathed in a maelstrom of shadow and wind rippled around him, two jet black longswords in his hands, six wings of absolute darkness drinking in all light and heat from its surroundings, so that one could see frost bloom across the building's every face.

_**"GYWAOOOOOOOOOOAAA!"**_

A soul-rending screech echoed through the command center as the demonic form of Shinji Ikari howled defiance at the Angel, which turned back to him, roaring as it recognized him as a greater threat than before.

Two blows loosed at once, faster than the eye could see.

_WHOOSH-BOOM!_

A cross-flare, more powerful than any previously recorded, wiping everything that stood before the Angel.

_Slash!_

An attack sundered by the onrushing form of Evangelion Unit-01, the darkness held in its hands and wreathing its form drinking greedily of the insane levels of power being thrown at it, swords rippling, spinning together as an omnipresent whine made itself known-

_Rumble-CRASH!_

—as the twin blades struck home, piercing the Angel's core and releasing a tremendous gale of darkness—a powerful misama that blinded sensors, cut off all visibility, painting the world black—a vision of death that sent a resounding chill through the souls of all that saw it, giving them the impression of staring deep into the abyss from which all came, and to which all would one day return.

When it faded away, and sensors came back online, the first thing the bridge crew noted was the absence of the Angel in the skyline, as its fresh carcass lay immobile upon the ground, having crushed several buildings as it toppled over. And standing upon the Angel's mask, head thrown back in quiet laughter, was the Third Child, whose figure shook as the cackling grew to terrifying intensity-before he fell silent, going perfectly still, and as if a puppet with cut strings, collapsed atop the titan he had slain.

"The target...has gone silent," Maya Ibuki said, finding her voice after long moments of stunned silence. "Survival of the Third...is confirmed."

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the long delay-multiple computer problems do not make it easy for me to get these out, so I appreciate your patience with me. As always, thank you for reading, and any feedback you have is much appreciated, as it helps me to make the story better. :)


	3. Transient Illusion

**Evangel Notes: Requiem for a World**

A Neon Genesis Evangelion / Angel Notes Crossover

Disclaimer: In this particular universe, I do not own or in any way shape or form hold a claim to Neon Genesis Evangelion, Angel Notes, Kara no Kyoukai, any other elements of the Nasuverse, or any other modern works that I may reference in this story.

In 2000 AD, the cataclysm known as Second Impact destroyed most of the Southern Hemisphere, a global catastrophe that brought modern civilization to its knees. Fifteen years later, things have only become worse, with the mortally wounded world caught in its final throes: the continents cracking and tearing apart from massive tectonic shifts, crops refuse to grow, animal life has become all but extinct, and the very air is filled with "Grain" or "True Ether", a substance that has reduced birth rates near to nothing, on top of proving violently toxic to anyone born before Second Impact.

In the face of this, humanity clings to survival due to its tenacity, scraping away at the edge of the darkness with fire, using every ounce of its creativity and technological ingenuity to stave off the end – using medicines and supplements to help adapt to the dying world, air purification devices to filter the toxins from their dwellings, environmentally controlled geofronts for rebuilding their devastated cities and raising what crops they can.

But things are about to take a turn for the worse, as the Angels begin to awaken from their aeons-long slumber in the watery depths, and last gasps of the dying world have reached the Aristoteles, vast and alien powers drifting in the void of space—beings without rules, without minds, without the concept of death itself, who come in response to Earth's last wish—that humanity, which slew her, might follow her unto oblivion.

" " denotes speech

_'italics'_ denotes thought

**'bold'** denotes location names

_**'bold italics'**_ denotes skill use

**

* * *

Undisclosed Location**

_Tap. Tap._ _ Tap. _

Footsteps echoed in the darkness as a solitary figure strode through a colorless world, cloak fluttering in the figure's wake as it walked through a place bleached of life or meaning, where beliefs, feelings, hope—all was simply crumbling away to dust, the failure of crops, the falling population, the poisoning of the air, the miasma lingering in human hearts not really coincidences but an inevitable consequence of past actions.

'_But then, as I have heard, a terrible premonition often brings about a terrible reality…'_

And perhaps it was humanity's dreams and fears of what the future might hold that had doomed the world, creating the very disaster that they sought to avert—as humans so often did in their time, unaware of the futility of their actions in the grand scheme of things, their utter inability to prolong destruction for any longer than a heartbeat.

Still, as one whose instincts screamed out that the time remaining was drawing to an end, the Wanderer continued onwards, as glassy sand crunched underfoot, the mirrored surface of the desert wastes reflected the bloody hue of the sky, weary eyes looking on into an as yet uncertain future.

All about was a land of grey, watched over by a crimson sky – shadow and flame, flickering as it had for a decade and a half, a land in which people seemed to be turning into machines, stripping away emotion, stripping away everything unnecessary and tossing it away—as unnecessary things led only to pain in the end. Bygone days were simply that—bygone, and returning to them, a hollow fantasy akin to that of preserving one's ordinary life at the end of the world.

In the distance, a second figure stirred, cloaked in shadows, a deeper shade of darkness evident against the colorless surface of the melted ground, mirroring the Wanderer's steps.

"Shinji Ikari, why do you live?" a voice asked, seeming to echo from the ground itself as the shadow approached at a slow, measured pace.

The first figure stumbled, almost losing his footing, as a jolt of pain flashed through his nerves, images of terror, pain, death and violence assailed him, flashes of unholy rage and agony racing through him as he remembered what it had felt like for the Angel to pierce him through the gut with a lance of molten fire.

Still, to his credit, the Third Child managed to force himself to remain standing, sharp eyes looking into the pulsing heart of darkness before him.

"Because I don't want to die," was the answer he gave at last, his voice hoarse, without any visible reaction from the shadow.

"Shinji Ikari, why do you fight?" the shadow asked, its voice somehow familiar and alien all at the same time, cutting through into the depths of his mind towards something which he instinctively recoiled from, as within him welled a primal urge to tear apart a being that had dared to hurt one of the only people in the world who actually cared if he lived or died.

A second passed—then five, ten, fifteen dragging into thirty, as the figure of the Third Child stood frozen, breathing ragged, as if confronting something he could not, would not accept, not trusting himself to speak.

"So others…won't…get hurt," he spoke again, feeling distinctly uneasy, as more images flooded into him, images of a frenzy of shadow and flame, of a six-winged avatar of destruction destroying a gargantuan beast with savage glee.

"Shinji Ikari, why do you care?"

The final question, one that seemed to strike the Third Child like a physical blow, sending him to his knees as his consciousness flickered at last, spots growing in his vision as if from anoxia. But as he fell into the welcome embrace of the void, his lips silently shaped something of a reply.

'_That's obvious. It's because…'_

—but Shinji Ikari had no time to complete his sentence, as a gale of darkness erupted from the shadow's form, melting his body, painting his vision black, nullifying touch, nullifying pain, burning burning burning—

—as he was jerked abruptly from his dreams.

**

* * *

Ether Ward, NERV Medical, Tokyo-3**

For the last several days, the body of Shinji Ikari had lain unconscious on a hospital bed, recovering from his injuries—fairly severe (and ordinarily fatal) ones, at that, as he had had most of his torso destroyed in the battle against the Third Angel, with his body merely holding itself together with an Ether construct not unlike his blades. Things had seemed touch and go at first, with portions of the armor almost melted to his body and rather difficult to remove—but, when the various doctors and magi associated with NERV managed to do so, they discovered something odd—that the Third Child's wounds were already beginning to heal—or perhaps, the correct word would be regenerate, at a rate that was quite frankly abnormal, even by the standards of the moonlit world.

Then again, he was also one of very few Ether Liners in the world, so the physicians of NERV were rather more uncertain as to what might constitute normal for him, especially considering that his body used the Ether in the atmosphere to empower and heal itself—a substance more or less toxic to most normal humans, and simply inert to most children born after Second Impact.

Thus, after some basic care, which included bandaging him, treating the wound to prevent infection, and other such, they had left him more or less alone in the ward designated for Ether users, while monitoring his condition remotely all the while. There he had rested in a sleep so heavy that nothing had been able to rouse him, until at last wakefulness struck with a vengeance.

"Auuugh…"

With a groan of distaste, the Third Child stirred, waking to the low thrumming of the ventilation system as it kept the pressure in the "Ether Ward" slightly lower than that outside, to ensure containment of any…contaminants in the air, desirable or undesirable. With great effort, as if pulling his consciousness out of particularly thick mud, his eyes slowly opened, with the first thing he saw being, unsurprisingly…

'…_another unfamiliar ceiling.'_

The light of the afternoon sun streamed in through the windows of the rather spacious hospital room, painting the cold, austere white of the room a ruddy gold—quite the contrast from the colorless land of his nightmares—though the fact that the air was redolent of medicinal smells reminded him rather pointedly that this _was_ a hospital.

'_I guess I must have beat the Angel…even if…' _

The thought of victory bought the barest twinge of a smile to Shinji's lips, but that momentary mirth evaporated like the dew when he remembered how Mana had been hit full-on by one of the Angel's blasts, and he bolted upright in bed—

"Ack…"

—to an explosion of pain, registering the iron tang of blood in his mouth as a surge of nausea assailed his senses, as he realized that sitting up should have been impossible, given that his torso that should have been all but destroyed in the fight against the Angel.

'_That's right…after I failed to help Mana, I tried to fight off the Angel, and it blew away my stomach…leaving me to crash to my death, but…'_

Swallowing hard as he fought off a deathly chill, remembering the sickening sensation of having his body blown apart, the Third Child looked down to see bandages wrapped about his torso—a torso that seemed miraculously whole. Almost in disbelief, Shinji reached towards the area in question, probing it with his fingers only to find that there was indeed solid flesh underneath, flesh that registered the pressure of his fingertips as…

_Gurgle! _

…his stomach rumbled, a mortifyingly strident sound that cut through the background noise of the room, the Child sagging in relief at the rather definite proof that he was indeed alive.

"Feh…leave it to your stomach to wake you up when nothing else could," a familiar voice quipped from not too far away, as Shinji turned his head, face going slack with shock as he saw Mana Ryougi watching him from the bed next to his, her lips curved upward with wry amusement as she looked at him. "I'm beginning to think that you like food more than being around me."

The Fourth Child was dressed in a pure-white hospital gown, there were some bandages wrapped around her head, and her skin was flushed the delicate pink of flesh recovering from burns, but otherwise, she was apparently uninjured…and well enough to tease him.

"You…you're alright…" Shinji whispered, almost as in a trance, his body seeming to move all on its own as he swung his legs, heavy from days of inactivity, down from the bed, easing his feet to the floor as he tottered over to Mana's side.

While his memory was not the best in the world, the Third remembered all too clearly how his friend had gone to fight the Angel alone—had even held it off for a few minutes, until she had committed everything to an attack—and had been blown out of the air by a point-blank cross-flare, her armored form smoking as it plummeted towards the ground.

'_Just like…'_

But his thought was left unfinished as his hand reached out involuntarily to make sure what he was seeing was real, his fingertips brushing against her face—and held there for several long seconds as she put her hand over his, affirming that she was there, before their hands fell to their respective sides.

"You're really alright…" Shinji whispered, as something in him broke, and swallowing, he collapsed into a chair that had apparently been set up at Mana's bedside. "You…I…I had thought…I…"

And then he stopped talking, as for the first time in a long, long while, the Third Child broke down crying, the tension that had built up over the last few days released in quiet, muffled sobs of relief, interspersed with whispered apologies, words that caused the Fourth's lips to twitch downward in annoyance, as she brought her hand down to his chin and forced him to look at her—with Shinji finding no anger in her features, only the same sense of oddness as her face normally held.

"Don't apologize, Shinji-kun…from what I'm told, you're the one who saved my life," Mana said quietly, meeting her friend's gaze eye to eye to emphasize the seriousness of her words. Then she let go of him, letting out a most unladylike snort. "Or are you apologizing for that?"

A somewhat sarcastic barb that, but one, that nevertheless, cut through Shinji's litany of apologies, bringing his thoughts to a halt.

"No, never, of course not!" Shinji denied vehemently, though the bluster faded when he thought back to how he had failed her, how… "But—"

The Third Child cut himself off at a rather heated glare from his childhood friend, wisely stopping before he said that it was his fault that Mana needed to be saved—his fault that she was hurt in the first place, just like—

"The only thing that you might have done better was to make up your mind whether to join me on the field, or not join me at all…you made me think I had to fight that thing by myself," Mana noted, half-in-jest, half reproachfully, though a hint of bitterness crept into her tone as she said this, something that Shinji flinched from. "But you showed up when you did, so I guess I'll forgive you."

"Sorry," Shinji said, mingled guilt and force of habit compelling him to apologize, as Mana just shook her head, giving him a reproachful look.

"I made my choice, and you made yours—and in the end you came, so you have nothing to apologize for," the Ryougi heir quipped, looking seriously at him, her sharp blue eyes boring into his. "Rather than that, just do better next time…alright, Shinji-kun?"

'_She's not angry at me…? Even though this is just like what happened back then?'_

"So—alright, Mana," Shinji acquiesced after a moment, managing to correct himself from an instinctive apology at the last second.

"I'm glad you agree," Mana murmured softly, seeming almost vulnerable for an instant—though it passed quickly enough that one might have thought it was never there in the first place. For she remembered the last time they had been in the hospital, how Shinji had kept muttering "I'm sorry…I'm sorry, Mana" in his sleep—and how she had been unable to reply, having been heavily sedated at the time. It wasn't something she liked to think about—or to be reminded of, though she had the oddest feeling that their roles as Third and Fourth Children would lead to more danger than either of them thought. "But how did you beat that thing, anyway?"

Shinji stiffened at the inquiry, eyebrows drawing together as bits and pieces from his dream hurtled to the forefront of his mind, imagery of rage, uncontrolled and unrepressed, imagery of grief, imagery of savage, unrestrained violence blotting out merely human emotions.

"I'm not really sure," he answered honestly, his expression clouding as he tried to reconcile what had happened, what his mind's eye had apparently observed, with the fact that he remembered passing out after being run through.

"Heh…I guess you're just full of surprises, Shinji-kun," Mana noted with a twist of her lips, as a glimmer of mischief sparked in her eyes as she took in his more serious demeanor. "And since we're both apparently fine, and have reassured each other that we're wonderful people, shall we have something to eat? I _did_ notice your stomach growling earlier…"

_Gurgle!_

Shinji didn't like the idea of having to consume hospital food, which he knew from experience to be rather bland and unappetizing, if one wanted to be generous, but as he discovered his body's needs overrode his preferences. Still, that didn't stop him from flushing beet-red with mortification as his stomach growled once again, betraying his attempt to maintain some semblance of decorum, a condition that merely worsened as Mana laughed, a clear, tinkling sound like bells.

"And no…we're not going to be eating hospital food," the Ryougi supplied with a wry smirk, gesturing for Shinji to move aside as she gingerly eased herself out of bed, lightly stepping over to a card table in the corner of the room and gesturing for Shinji to follow, which he did, after just a hint of hesitation.

To his surprise, Mana reached under the table and retrieved a rather large bag filled with several containers, which she unloaded one by one onto the table, opening them to reveal the fragrant smell of hot miso soup – a vast improvement from the perpetual antiseptic smell that characterized most hospitals.

"How did you get this?" Shinji asked, only for Mana to flash him another of her enigmatic smiles. "I'm pretty sure that hospitals don't serve good food like this—and that they don't like people bringing in outside food…"

"People tend make an exception or two when you save them from certain death," the Fourth Child quipped lightly, something that made even the Third's lips curl upward ever so slightly, remembering how often she had convinced people to make "exceptions" for various things. But then, given that Mana's mother was the boss of a rather powerful syndicate, in addition to being a powerful demon hunter…well, she had learned her fair share. "The doctors said you might wake up today, so I talked someone into bringing me food from the cafeteria. And before you start talking about not having to go through so much trouble for you—I just wanted to have lunch with my best friend."

Her words were accompanied by a tender smile, the sight of which warmed the Third Child and soothed away his doubts, making him feel that maybe he hadn't screwed up as badly as he had originally surmised, after all.

'_It's almost frustrating…_' the Third Child thought to himself. 'I_ haven't been able to oppose her smile even once to this day…but I find that I don't want to.'_

And so, with practiced efficiency, he set about the task of helping Mana to unpack the various items of food, producing from the bag a steaming bowl of kitsune udon, a container of soft-cooked rice, and a container of miso soup, freshly cooked and filled with ingredients like tofu, seaweed, mushrooms and green onions that were easy on the stomach, and a single taiyaki for them to split—something they'd done for many years now.

"The rice and miso soup are yours," Mana said, pushing those to one side of the table and pulling the udon to her as she took a seat, passing him a set of chopsticks. "I thought you might appreciate it since your stomach was…injured, earlier."

"Heh, thanks," Shinji mumbled, taking a seat across from her and giving her a somewhat lopsided smile. "Really…thanks."

"Well, let's not stand on ceremony," the Fourth replied, waving away the expression of gratitude, a sly lilt finding its way to her voice. "It's not as good as the food you make, but the ingredients are surprisingly fresh, so we might as well enjoy it."

Fresh ingredients being quite a luxury in the dying world, given how few crops would grow, despite the best efforts of human technology.

As they ate and talked, conversing on a number of things, the Third Child found a small, tentative smile creeping across his lips, as in the aftermath of the Angel battle, Shinji Ikari found himself happy to be alive, happy that the worst had not come to pass, happy that someone cared enough to tell him that he was not alone.

**

* * *

Human Instrumentality Committee, Emergency Meeting**

To the world, Gendo Ikari could be seen as a man who wore a mask of stone, who directed the actions of friends and foe alike—a man who moved with purpose given to him by others, but lacked one for himself—a man many thought of as cold and inhuman. And indeed, so Gendo was, having chosen to forsake the path of companionship and intimacy to accomplish what he must, what no one else could.

And yet, he too answered to a set of others—a group known either as the Human Instrumentality Committee (to the public) or as SEELE (to the ones privileged to that information), a group which had now assembled to discuss the inevitabilities and necessities of the Angel War—and the War against the Aristoteles—with Gendo Ikari, the man they had left in charge of NERV—making him effectively their field commander in this struggle.

Thanks to improved holographic technology, however, it was unnecessary for the Supreme Commander to leave his office to attend this meeting, and so it was that Gendo found himself sitting in the middle of column of light, surrounded by a ring of holographic monoliths, each black with red lettering, numbered 01 through 12, accompanied by the words "SEELE" and "Audio Only."

"That the Angels have come in tandem with a second force of enemies is…most troubling," intoned one of the members of the Committee. "Especially given the unexpected injury to the First Child."

"Indeed," intoned the figure hidden by the monolith styled SEELE-01, in a distinctly female contralto used to command. "It should have been predicted that large Ether concentrations would awaken the dormant fragments of the fallen Aristotele, given the effects of Second Impact upon their originating body."

"Measures have been implemented to guard against that possibility," Gendo interjected, his glasses and interlaced fingers both assisting him in hiding his face from those of the Committee. "It was simply impossible to be certain of the effects the Angel's awakening would have, nor that of a A-Ray's power."

"Very well, Ikari, but see to it that precautions are taken," the voice of SEELE-01 replied, her voice stern but reasonable. "Irregularities must be eliminated before the ritual, or it will again create an unfavorable result for humanity."

"But what of EVANGELION and the Children, Ikari?" a third, more sibilant voice seemed to hiss from the shadows. "It would be…imprudent for NERV's anti-Angel measures to become commonly known, as fragments of the Association would likely respond…with hostility. NERV must control the information about them both quickly and appropriately."

"Further, it appears that you gave command of one EVANGELION unit to your son, Ikari," the first of the voices added, as if testing him. "How very…emotional of you."

"The Third Child was one of only two viable candidates, and the other was assigned Unit-00," the Supreme Commander of NERV responded evenly, his face revealing no sign of what his thoughts were. "It was the logical thing to do."

"The point is acknowledged," the chairwoman of SEELE spoke up once more. "However, do not forget the importance of the Human Instrumentality Project, to which even this current war is but a means. Given the condition of humanity and the dying world, the completion of that project is our only hope. The final and ultimate means of salvation in the face of destruction."

"There can be no turning back," one of the other monoliths intoned gravely.

"I understand," Ikari acknowledged, inclining his head ever so slightly. "With the beginning of these events, humanity has no more time."

"Indeed," SEELE-01 uttered in her deep contralto. "May it be that you remember this, Ikari."

With The holographic monoliths faded out, leaving the Commander of NERV alone in the pitch blackness of his office, pondering the next move to be made.

'_Thus far, all is proceeding within the bounds of the scenario…'_

**

* * *

NERV HQ, Temporary Warehouse, Tokyo-3**

Meanwhile, on the surface, under a temporary facility that had been erected to isolate the decomposing corpse of the Third Angel from the outside world, Captain Misato Katsuragi and Dr. Ritsuko Akagi were bundled in heavy environment suits as they surveyed the remains of their fallen foe, taking what measurements they could, with similarly-clad technicians swarming about them, setting up portable computational equipment and relays to the MAGI Supercomputing system underground.

"With parts other than the core left undamaged, this was truly an ideal sample—I'm very grateful for it," the bottle-blonde Dr. Akagi was saying to Misato, frowning as she took in the immense scale of the creature. "Unfortunately, it seems to be decaying quite rapidly, releasing extremely hazardous levels of Ether into the environment."

"Hence the need for these environment suits, on top of the daily supplements required by an unmodified human," the Director of Operations responded, an eerie feeling of hatred and familiarity passing through her as she regarded the inert Angel. "Even if I don't seem to need the drugs for normal functioning…."

"Heh…you are something of an exception, given that you were present at Ground Zero of Second Impact," Ritsuko responded, even as she idly wondered exactly how much of her friend's current behavior and physical attributes were shaped by Second Impact. Undoubtedly, effects from that long-ago encounter still lingered in Misato Katsuragi, physically and emotionally—

"Wark! Wark!"

—making it quite unusual that her old friend would choose a penguin as her familiar, given that Dr. Akagi would have thought that a penguin would remind her of past traumas.

'_I will admit that this particular familiar is useful to her, given that its human-like levels of intelligence, and its ability to venture into hazardous environments without protection, but I doubt that was why Misato chose the bird,' _the head of Project E thought to herself, shaking her head as she glanced sidelong at the grumbling Captain. '_Though,_ _I suppose it's possible that she just felt a sense of connection to it, since it was alone after the experiment in which it was created—much like her.'_

"What's that, PenPen?" the purple-haired magus asked, watching as the flightless bird gesticulated between the Angel and the computing equipment. "Ah, I see…you're curious about the Angel. Rits, do you know anything new yet?"

But the bottle-blonde merely shook her head as she led the group over to the portable MAGI access terminal, where a small sample of the Angel's body had been subjected to various analyses from the most advanced sensor suite known to man—only for the computer to output a simple "_**Error 601 - Unable to Analyze**_."

There was a moment of silence, as Misato glared at the screen, willing it to display some useful bit of information, but unfortunately, nothing happened.

"…does that mean what I think it does?" the Director of NERV Operations asked sardonically, giving up on her attempt to influence the computer by will alone. It wasn't as if her magecraft would help, since she was primarily a combat magus—one of the more common specialties, given that in the wake of Second Impact, many Dead Apostles had begun to fight for rights over unmodified humans—which were becoming quite the scarce resource. The attack on the train from Kyushu to Tokyo-3 was merely one symptom of this.

"I'm afraid it does," Dr. Akagi answered, sighing in displeasure. "A standard analysis is impossible, given the inherently unstable structure of the material the Angel was composed of—existing simultaneously in multiple states of matter, flickering in and out of our dimension, possessing both particulate and wave properties, akin to light."

"Then how does the Angel remain stable enough to function?" Misato inquired, with PenPen giving an emphatic "wark" as he pointed to the blackened hollow where the core had been. "You do have at least a guess, right?"

"As your familiar suggests, its focus is most likely the core, but to be perfectly honest, I have no idea how it functions," Ritsuko admitted, for once confessing that she was out of her depth. "Do you, in your… experience?"

"I can tell that it's a spirit anchor, similar to that which the more powerful elementals tend to possess, but other than that…" the Director of Operations half-shrugged. "It's outside my area of expertise. But…if the Evangelion armors function properly and the Children do their part, we might be able to win."

"Optimistic, aren't you?" Dr. Akagi shot back sardonically.

"Wishful thinking is a necessity for human life," was all Misato had to say in reply. "Especially in these troubled days."

* * *

**A/N**: For those of you curious to know about Shinji's living arrangements or such, I will be releasing another chapter tomorrow to deal with that. It simply struck me that it wouldn't to overload a chapter, now would it?


	4. Scattered Ripples

**Evangel Notes: Requiem for a World**

A Neon Genesis Evangelion / Angel Notes Crossover

Disclaimer: In this particular universe, I do not own or in any way shape or form hold a claim to Neon Genesis Evangelion, Angel Notes, Kara no Kyoukai, any other elements of the Nasuverse, or any other modern works that I may reference in this story.

In 2000 AD, the cataclysm known as Second Impact destroyed most of the Southern Hemisphere, a global catastrophe that brought modern civilization to its knees. Fifteen years later, things have only become worse, with the mortally wounded world caught in its final throes: the continents cracking and tearing apart from massive tectonic shifts, crops refuse to grow, animal life has become all but extinct, and the very air is filled with "Grain" or "True Ether", a substance that has reduced birth rates near to nothing, on top of proving violently toxic to anyone born before Second Impact.

In the face of this, humanity clings to survival due to its tenacity, scraping away at the edge of the darkness with fire, using every ounce of its creativity and technological ingenuity to stave off the end – using medicines and supplements to help adapt to the dying world, air purification devices to filter the toxins from their dwellings, environmentally controlled geofronts for rebuilding their devastated cities and raising what crops they can.

But things are about to take a turn for the worse, as the Angels begin to awaken from their aeons-long slumber in the watery depths, and last gasps of the dying world have reached the Aristoteles, vast and alien powers drifting in the void of space—beings without rules, without minds, without the concept of death itself, who come in response to Earth's last wish—that humanity, which slew her, might follow her unto oblivion.

" " denotes speech

_'italics'_ denotes thought

**'bold'** denotes location names

_**'bold italics'**_ denotes skill use

**

* * *

Ether Ward, NERV Medical, Tokyo-3**

There were quite a few reasons that Shinji Ikari had never liked hospitals, but the main reasons weren't what one might expect. Granted, he was none too fond of the poor quality of hospital food, the smells of death and decay and medicine lingering the air, or the memories of pain associated with his occasional visits there, but what unnerved him most was the silence.

He had something of a talent for music, after all, and like many humans, connected to the world through sound more than sight. Oh, to be sure, he relied on vision to move about, to function in day-to-day society, but it was the subtle nuances and variations in the sounds around him that made him feel as if he were not alone. The chatter of people in the distance, brisk footsteps moving to and fro, quiet breathing not his own—even the sounds of heartbeats and nerves, which one ordinarily didn't consciously perceive—all these were absent from the sterile environment of hospitals, evoking a sense of utter _wrongness_ that rather unsettled the Third Child.

'_It's too familiar—even if the ceiling isn't…'_

Which was why, after being returned to his room in the dead of the night (following the exhaustive regimen of tests one physician or another had conducted on him after he awakened—though at least they had had the courtesy of not interrupting his meal), the rather weary Shinji Ikari had found himself unable to sleep, and so had stepped out into the hallway, thinking that a walk around the ward might distract him from the encroaching sense of isolation.

But whatever his plans were, the Third Child's non-too-reliable feet came to a stop just outside his room, leaving him standing motionless before a pane of glass that looked out upon the vastness of the Geofront, observing the twinkling lights of the city above—a city that he supposed that he had helped to save, even if the lives of the people in it had been nowhere near his mind when he had chosen to go into battle.

'_It is very much like what Touko-san said years ago about the danger of an overlooking view…that while the world outside is just as real as the small area I am in, the second feels more real, since I am experiencing it…' _Shinji recalled, troubled blue eyes shifting from point to point of the vast underground cavern that was apparently the fortress of mankind. _'Just as I came here because Father called me, not thinking of anything but myself, really. For someone to thank me just because I didn't run away…'_

He shook his head then, sighing to fill the oppressive silence.

"Couldn't sleep?" a gentle voice asked from over Shinji's shoulder, as the lithe form of Mana Ryougi padded out in the hallway, blinking a bit of weariness from her eyes.

"You always did like to sneak up on people," he commented quietly, feeling rather than seeing the Fourth Child step up beside him, with the Third Child smiling slightly despite himself at her presence.

"It's not my fault you're not aware of your surroundings," the raven-haired girl replied, repeating a somewhat common exchange for the two of them. "You'd think that after those swordplay lessons from Mother, you'd learn something about that."

Shinji shivered at the memory of those so-called "training sessions", remembering that Shiki Ryougi had been quite a formidable woman who suffered no nonsense—particularly when it came to the art of the sword, as well as her "business dealings." While he didn't know the details of her past, only knowing that she'd apparently been the head of the Demon Hunter Organization at one point, the Third Child had a healthy understanding that Shiki Ryougi was not someone one wished to cross.

'_I wonder where she is now…it has been some years since she disappeared…'_

Years in which he and Mana had been in the care of the rest of the Ryougi household, a place that could admittedly be somewhat stifling at times.

"That's not it…you're just better at it than I am," Shinji murmured softly, glancing over at the girl standing beside him, though her long flowing hair obscured her face from view. "That hasn't changed since long ago."

"…except apparently against an Angel or—something like it," Mana filled in after a moment, causing Shinji to wince at the brutally honest way she commented on her own abilities. "You, on the other hand, even if you don't quite know how, seem to be able to beat them…"

"I wasn't going to mention that part," the Third Child muttered weakly.

"Which is why I did…it wouldn't do for me to run away from something inconvenient, right?" the Ryougi said in reply, her words filled with more than one layer of meaning, especially given whose company she was in.

'_She never was one to mince words…' _Shinji reflected ruefully, letting out a hollow chuckle as he realized exactly who those words were directed at.

"You've made your point," he conceded, glancing over at Mana to see that the ghost of a smile had strayed across her lips. "Though I still can't beat you, even with Ether blades…"

"Feh…you're welcome to try again next time we train together," Mana Ryougi quipped wryly, an incredibly dangerous aura flashing from her for a moment, reminding Shinji of the one time he had seen Mana's mother in combat—a most frightening recollection. "Which is probably going to be sooner than later, given that we're now apparently part of the War against the Angels."

"…yeah," was all Shinji said by way of acknowledgement, right before he changed the topic. "It's hard to believe—but then it's almost as hard to believe that we were attacked by the Dead while on our way here, or that we're in a real geofront."

"There aren't many of them, that's certainly true—but in a way, they are the last sanctuaries of humanity," the Fourth Child admitted, looking out at the sprawling lights of the city in the cavern – a nearly self-sufficient development that filtered Ether out of the atmosphere, hosted advanced bio-farms, and produced food in one way or another—usually in the form of artificial rations and such. "And with the Dead, the Angels, and everything else, I wonder how much of the world will be left after this war is over…"

"I don't know. Even now, there are only about 800 million people alive today, after…Second Impact and everything related to it," the Third recalled quietly from the lessons he had learned. "Which is probably why the vampires are so desperate as to have their Dead openly attack, since they rely on people as food."

"And why Mother had to call together the Demon Hunters, yes…since many of those with demonic ancestry reacted badly to the Ether, the substance triggering the final state of ancestry return—Crimson Red Vermillion as its called," Mana murmured, her expression somewhat troubled at the memory of flashing knives and blood, as all out war had overtaken the streets of several cities.

"Demons, Dead Apostles and Angels? Sounds worse than Mifune…" Shinji stated with a touch of irony, turning his head from the scenery towards another room at the end of the long white hallway. "And then there was the injured girl who Father wanted to fight in my place…"

"Hm?"

A frankly curious tone, as Mana turned to look in the direction of the Third Child's gaze, catching sight of the door and surmising who must lie behind it.

"There were hints of something crystalline along her wounds," Shinji noted, bringing his palm to his forehead as a rather fearsome image came unbidden to his mind. "Almost like…"

"So she fought something like _that_…?" Mana noted grimly, shaking her head as her expression took on a pained quality. "Hmm, I guess we should get to know her, once all of us get out of here. Something tells me we'll need all the help we can get in the fight against the Angels—and whatever else is out there."

"Yeah," Shinji agreed, his thoughts taking on a rather more fatalistic bent as he considered the sheer scale of the creature he had been forced to fight, "otherwise I guess humanity is doomed…well, if we're still human in the first place…"

"Oh?" the Fourth Child inquired, raising an eyebrow as she regarded her old friend evenly. "Well, human or not, I know well enough what we are..."

"And what's that?"

Mana smiled then, answering with one simple word that brought an irrational warmth to the Third Child.

"Partners."

**

* * *

Human Resources Conference Room, NERV HQ, Tokyo-3**

A day or so later, after another series of tests and examinations, Shinji Ikari and Mana Ryougi had been given a clean bill of health, and had been released from NERV Medical—whereupon they were immediately intercepted by Captain Misato Katsuragi and a representative of NERV's Human Resources department, who escorted them to a conference room where they had to grapple with the worst adversary humanity ever known: paperwork (in a manner of speaking, since there was no real paper to deal with, only electronic forms).

Said paperwork covered a number of different topics, from _pro forma _questionnaires on skills, combat experience, and relations to the moonlit world, a psychological profile, transfer applications to the local junior high, compensation and benefits, and of course, forms to render them emancipated minors (necessary for a number of legal reasons, given their newfound status as members of the secret organization NERV).

The last of these caused the Third Child's lips to twitch with disapproval, but it was rather muted, given that had expected this outcome after his "reunion" with his father. And after nearly a decade apart, it was far more natural for him to be separated from the man anyway.

So the Children slogged through the morass of paperwork, filling out their forms, signing as necessary on the provided tablet computers, and such, until at last the first round of paperwork was finished and filed, with the Human Resources Representative leaving.

'_Now I know why Mitsuru-san's desk was never quite tidy, with all the paperwork he had to do,' _Mana thought to herself. '_Still, at least this batch is over, and now we are free to go…right?'_

"So are we finished?" Shinji voiced aloud, mirroring her thoughts, only for their hopes of freedom to be dashed by Captain Katsuragi.

"Not just yet, I'm afraid," replied the purple-haired Director of NERV Operations, gesturing for both of the Children to remain seated. "We still need to discuss the issue of your living quarters."

Shinji and Mana glanced at one another briefly, wondering why this was being brought up now.

"Shinji and I have stated a preference to stay with Aunt Azaka, since we lived together in Mifune," Mana answered, eyebrows furrowing together slightly. "Is there a problem with the current arrangement, Captain Katsuragi?"

_Click!_

As if on cue, the door opened, revealing the labcoated form of Dr. Ritsuko Akagi, who walked into the conference room and spoke without preamble.

"I'm afraid that that arrangement is not going to work for several reasons," the bottle-blonde responded, looking over the medical reports of the Children. "First, as two of the only known Ether Users, you are vital assets to NERV, and we would prefer to have you residing within the Geofront."

"But our bodies need function better in an Ether-rich environment, making long-term residence within the Geofront rather impractical," Mana countered, stating a simple point of fact, her sharp blue eyes studying the two women across from her to try and discern their true motivations.

"Arrangements could be made to infuse the atmosphere of your individual quarters with Ether," Ritsuko stated, but the Fourth interrupted her before she could continue.

"But would defeat the purpose behind the filtration systems of the Geofront, wouldn't it?" Mana asked innocently, giving a rather devilish smile. "Setting up a contained ward at the hospital is one thing, but from what I understand, living quarters are not designed to be isolated in that fashion."

"…she's got you there, Rits," Misato admitted candidly, suppressing the urge to smile at her old friend's misfortune, as the bottle-blonde's face twitched ever-so-slightly, looking over at the Director of Operations in mild exasperation.

"You may have a point," Dr. Akagi conceded, moving onto the next item on her list. "However, we would still prefer that you not live together in the event of an accident."

"Accident?" Mana questioned, reading into the word as she was wont to do, given what "accident" had sometimes meant in her mother's line of work. Well, her less than legal line of work. "You mean in the event of an unexpected attack, don' you?"

This time, it was Misato's turn to grimace, since the Fourth was absolutely right. While Tokyo-3 was indeed the fortress city of mankind, its defenses against all-too-human enemies was not absolute, or even against enemies that could pretend to be humans for a time.

"…given that you and Shinji-kun apparently faced the Dead on the way to Tokyo-3, I take it that you are aware of the threat of the Dead Apostles, correct?" she asked after some odd seconds, looking directly into the Ryougi's eyes with a serious gaze.

A nod from both Children.

"…if that is the case, wouldn't living together reduce the risk of injury, since it would be easier to protect us—or for us to protect ourselves?" Shinji asked, somewhat perplexed by the argument, tilting his head questioningly.

There was some truth to that fact, but…

"Until now, you have simply faced the Dead, not the originating Apostles—which are on a completely different level from their familiars," Misato replied, thinking that the Children would take a bit of honesty better than an outright attempt at deception. "And while I don't doubt your capabilities, the Dead Apostles are no pushovers, either."

"…and you are concerned because you don't know much about what we can do," Mana summed up, with Misato nodding.

"That's correct," the purple-haired magus acknowledged. "Until we find out more about what you can do out of the Evangelions, NERV is unwilling to risk you in such a fashion, as you are the only ones who can fight against the Angels. School is safe enough, given that Dead Apostles will not attack during the day, but…"

She trailed off, thinking the rest clear enough to infer, and leaving some of her reasons unspoken, as the fact that NERV was particularly interested in keeping the Third Child under observation after the battle against the Sachiel, both because of his displayed berserker ability and his frighteningly effective regeneration, would not be very constructive to resolving this situation.

"I take it you had something in mind?" Mana asked levelly, wanting to see the offer on the table before any decisions were made one way or another.

"As you know, I am a magus—a combat magus, by specialization," NERV's Director of Operations clarified, reminding them of the barrier she'd thrown up during the car ride to the Geofront—a barrier that had withstood a shockwave from an N2 bomb. "And like most magi, I am currently living alone. So what I propose is this: Shinji-kun will live with me, and Mana-kun with— " Misato cut herself off for a moment, the gears in her mind turning as she realized something. "By Aunt Azaka—would that be Azaka Kokutou, the flame magus?"

Mana nodded mutely, but raised an inquisitive eyebrow at this, as Misato smirked, apparently having finally managed to surprise the Fourth Child.

"She and I worked together on a mission a few years after Second Impact," the magus related, her face hardening as she recalled that. "We had to put down a Dead Apostle in Misaki Town, a vampire of great potential turned by one of the Ancestors…but that's a story for another day. "

"So you wish for me to stay with you, while Mana stays with Aunt Azaka?" Shinji repeated for clarity's sake, receiving a simple nod.

"Yes," Misato confirmed, then added something as an afterthought. "In addition to quarters in the Geofront should you be needed on standby for any great length of time, or in the event that an Angel attack is imminent, as transit from the surface is far from instantaneous, even with my driving skills."

Shinji almost—but didn't quite—cringe, remembering all too well the terror that particular car ride had evoked. It wasn't every day that one had to race through a war zone at death-defying speeds, evading missiles, falling shrapnel, and other such things—while writhing in pain all the while.

"You have a point," the Third Child voiced, noting that proposal sounded fair enough, covering any objections he had. While he would prefer to live with Mana, he did see that NERV had a point.

"I will provisionally accept as well," Mana added, glancing once at Shinji as she made up her mind. "But may I come along, to see where Shinji will be staying?"

"Done," Misato said, reaching out a hand to first Mana, then Shinji, shaking their hands one at a time. "We'll pick up your NERV issue cell phones and the keys to your Geofront quarters on the way out. Oh, and may I be the first to say 'Welcome to NERV.'"

**

* * *

Misato Katsuragi's Apartment, Tokyo-3**

If one asked the average person in Tokyo-3 what the greatest effect of Second Impact had been, chances are that the response wouldn't have been the fact that the sky was stained a bloody red, that the seas had become barren and lifeless, or that vampires and creatures of folklore had begun to creep into the world once more (and who would really believe the last, unless they were already affiliated with the moonlit world?). Chances are that they would complain about the drugs they needed just to be able to breathe the air, the dearth of fresh produce available (especially meat), and that they needed to adapt to more and more advanced technology simply to be able to survive in the world—a world which had quite hostile to most everyone born before Second Impact.

In most cities, instant foods, artificial rations, and either canned or dried foods would be standard fare for most people, with fresh produce a luxury only available to those who either had a certain degree of wealth—or connections. Not much of a surprise, given that even with the advanced genetic engineering being done to crops to help them grow in post-Impact Earth, supply still fell short of demand, given the lack of areas in which they could be raised—and that most farm animals had gone extinct in the great dying caused by Ether.

Tokyo-3 showed some signs of this as well, as shown by the massive amounts of processed and instant food in its markets, but it had a surprising selection of fresh fruit, vegetables, and other foods available that most of its residents greatly appreciated—but this was a given, since it _was _built around a geofront of immense size, and thus had its own agricultural facilities. It was still pricey, compared to the instant foods, but it was heavily in demand, nonetheless, and there was a sense of rebirth in this bustling city of sanctuary—or at least there had been until a few days ago, when the Third Angel had attacked.

The effects of that on citywide morale had been easy enough to see, as the residents therein moved with quite a bit more caution now, an air of unease settling amongst them at the realization that the city had become a battlefield. Some even half-heartedly talked about moving—but where would they go? Travel was not cheap, and jobs in many other places hard to come by, with many cities having become ghost towns, falling into disrepair and disuse.

'_The ground level of Tokyo-3 seems almost_ _like a ghost town in itself, by night…' _Shinji thought to himself as he looked upon the world from his vantage point in the backseat of Misato's car, holding a bag of groceries in his lap as he sat next to a quiet Mana—the passenger seat being occupied by a certain hot-springs penguin.

"It's livelier during the daytime—or down in certain areas of the Geofront, for that matter," Captain Katsuragi commented, noticing the Third Child's sense of curiosity. "Most people just avoid the surface at night when they can, because of the Ether issue. When they have to go to work, there's no choice, but…"

"I see," Shinji noted, seeming somewhat subdued. "I guess as a magus, you deal with it by setting up a boundary field to keep the Ether out?"

"I'm actually fine with it, myself," Misato replied, putting her car through its paces, but none too quickly, as she headed towards her residence.

"Oh? I thought Ether was toxic to most people born before Second Impact," Mana questioned curiously, noting the oddity for future reference.

"It's a long story, right, PenPen?"

"Wark!" the penguin familiar honked, agreeing, with the rest of the car ride occurring place in a rather fey silence, as the Children absorbed their surroundings, taking mental notes on the city that would be their home for some time.

This time, things were considerably more comfortable, there were no last-minute evasions of falling objects, screeching of brakes, or reckless life-risking hijinks to deal with, and after perhaps fifteen minutes on the road, they arrived at Misato's residence—one of the few apartment blocks with units that extended aboveground.

"So Shinji-kun, did you send your stuff over to Tokyo-3?" the Operations officer asked as she parked her Alpine Renault A310 in the provided street-level garage.

"Everything is over at my aunt's house," Mana replied, having been the one to arrange for the shipping, since she knew Azaka and Mitsuru-san just a little better than Shinji did. "Is it alright if I stay over the night and help pick it up in the morning?"

"Fine, feel free," Misato answered agreeably, a little smirk crossing her lips at how eager the Fourth seemed to be. "Just be warned, my apartment is still a little messy, since I just moved into town a few days ago."

'A little messy' turned out to be somewhat of an understatement, as Shinji and Mana discovered once they opened the door, only to find boxes, beer cans, whiskey bottles and potato chip bags scattered around the place, with Shinji's fingers twitching with a nigh-uncontrollable urge to begin tidying up, as one of the few things he couldn't stand was a mess.

"Mana, do you mind if I…"

"Go ahead," the Ryougi sighed, knowing it was pointless to refuse, taking the groceries from Shinji Ikari, as the Third Child, the Slayer of the Third Angel, one of the only Ether Knights in the world, took on his greatest challenge yet—cleaning up the mess in Misato's apartment (or at least the basic living area), seemingly in a trance state as he blurred, organizing cans, bottles and such in a corner, and working to make the place more livable.

'_He'd certainly make a better housewife than I would,'_ Mana observed in her head, not saying it aloud, though it was certainly true enough.

With the soft padding of footsteps, the purple-haired Misato Katsuragi entered, with PenPen following behind her, the door closing with a click behind her as magus and familiar moved with purpose towards the kitchen.

"Put the food in the refrigerator, then feel free to have a look around," the older woman spoke graciously, beckoning for Mana to follow her. "I know it's been a long day, so as your host, I'll make something to eat."

Mana began to do as directed, following the magus into the kitchen, and opening the fridge, but the moment she began to unload some of the food—

_**Ba-dump**__._

Red flashed before her eyes for a moment as the Fourth Child's well-honed instincts suddenly detected a sense of danger on a completely different level than anything that had come before—seemingly a premonition of death.

_Ding!_

Humming, Misato retrieved a plate of small bite-sized pizza-snacks from the microwave, offering one to Mana, who took one, popping it into her mouth—her eyes nearly bugging out a moment later from how…_bad _it was, before she smoothed her expression and swallowed.

'_This will not do at all…not at all. How is it possible that someone could ruin even instant food?'_

"Captain Katsuragi?" Mana voiced aloud, after the foul taste had passed.

"Just call me Misato, Mi-sa-to," the purple-haired magus chided, waggling a finger. "What is it?"

"Very well, Misato-san," the Fourth Child said hesitantly, but insistently, trying to be polite about it. "But since Shinji-kun and I both just got out of the hospital, I don't think instant food would be too healthy for us. It would probably be better if we made something easy on the stomach."

"I'm sorry, but I can't really—it's the host's responsibility to—"

Mana waved off the Director of Operations' protests with a sweet, heavenly smile.

"Oh, don't worry, we want to do this for you," she insisted. "After all, this isn't just a celebration of Shinji-kun moving in, but of humanity's victory over that Angel, right? So we should have some proper food, right?"

"Well, if you're sure…" Misato said dubiously, actually feeling more than a little relieved. She knew that her culinary skills were more than a little lacking, so for someone else to offer was…thoughtful.

"Quite so. Have a seat, let's see what we can make you."

"I leave it to you then," the magus said, stepping back to give the Children free reign of the kitchen. "I look forward to seeing what you can do."

Having overheard the exchange after a quick attempt at clearing off the dining table, Shinji Ikari poked his head into the kitchen, where he raised his eyebrows at Mana, wondering what was going on, with the Fourth insisting that he help her to make something and show off his culinary mastery. Having refined his art over the last few years, using dried, preserved, or even fresh ingredients, Shinji had become more than simply proficient at the art—with Mana acknowledging that Shinji was probably one of the best cooks she knew.

'_Except maybe mother, but then, but then, cooking was easy for her, since she could "kill" anything wrong with food, "kill" a fish's smell, or whatnot…' _Mana thought to herself, wondering what it would be like if she did have that particular skill, but fast put it out of mind, turning instead to help Shinji with food preparations.

Before long, the two managed to whip up a meal of hot soba, mostly from scratch, though they did have to cheat a little bit with a hint of premade stock. Shinji did regret not being able to do more, but Misato's kitchen hadn't offered him much to work with—and as it was, he'd had to scrape the cupboards to add some flavor to the dish.

'_If only I had my case of dried herbs and spices…'_ the Third Child groused to himself, still a little disappointed that the food wasn't the best that it could be. _'But that is something I'll have to bring over later—after making a meal for Azaka and Mitsuru-san.'_

As it was, the first meal he had gotten to cook in Tokyo-3 would be a small, simple dish, but he supposed it was appropriate, since eating soba to celebrate a move or a new beginning was something of Japanese tradition, and this was, if nothing else, the beginning of something new.

One by one, the two Children brought the three—no—four steaming bowls of hot noodles and broth to the table, along with chopsticks, much to Misato's obvious delight, as Shinji could see her eyes widening as she took in the tantalizing aromas.

"Itadakimasu!" came the universal cry, and with that, all turned to eating and discussing the future of their living arrangements—including the mention of a guest room if it was necessary to stay over in the future—as well as division of chores. Given Shinji's obvious skill with cooking (skill that would just as obviously best Misato's any day of the week), Misato agreed to let him handle food, while she would keep the main living areas clean—setting aside an extra stipend if he wanted to handle any of the other chores—something Shinji felt was fair (much more so than her half-joking suggestion to play rock-paper-scissors, as an individual skilled at reading body language would win almost every time—as Shinji had discovered long ago during one of Mana's attempts to 'defeat' her mother at something.)

In the end, the three (and the familiar) finished their meal, and fell to talking about the city and their roles.

"Something of a lonesome city, isn't it?" Shinji commented, looking out the window at the few lights he saw on ground level. "Just like a lot of the world."

"Maybe," Misato said with a hint of wistfulness. "But look up. There's a reason I chose this apartment, rather than one underground, you know. Because here in Tokyo-3, there's not much light pollution, which means—"

"…you can actually see the stars," Mana filled in with a gentle smile.

All in all, it seemed things didn't get off to too badly a start, as day turned to night, and night again to morning in the opening days of the Angel War.

* * *

**A/N**: As promised, the housing situation, as well as a bit more information on the state of the world. Thanks for reading, and remember, feedback is always appreciated!


	5. Footsteps in a Hollow Shrine

**Evangel Notes: Requiem for a World**

A Neon Genesis Evangelion / Angel Notes Crossover

Disclaimer: In this particular universe, I do not own or in any way shape or form hold a claim to Neon Genesis Evangelion, Angel Notes, Kara no Kyoukai, any other elements of the Nasuverse, or any other modern works that I may reference in this story.

In 2000 AD, the cataclysm known as Second Impact destroyed most of the Southern Hemisphere, a global catastrophe that brought modern civilization to its knees. Fifteen years later, things have only become worse, with the mortally wounded world caught in its final throes: the continents cracking and tearing apart from massive tectonic shifts, crops refuse to grow, animal life has become all but extinct, and the very air is filled with "Grain" or "True Ether", a substance that has reduced birth rates near to nothing, on top of proving violently toxic to anyone born before Second Impact.

In the face of this, humanity clings to survival due to its tenacity, scraping away at the edge of the darkness with fire, using every ounce of its creativity and technological ingenuity to stave off the end – using medicines and supplements to help adapt to the dying world, air purification devices to filter the toxins from their dwellings, environmentally controlled geofronts for rebuilding their devastated cities and raising what crops they can.

But things are about to take a turn for the worse, as the Angels begin to awaken from their aeons-long slumber in the watery depths, and last gasps of the dying world have reached the Aristoteles, vast and alien powers drifting in the void of space—beings without rules, without minds, without the concept of death itself, who come in response to Earth's last wish—that humanity, which slew her, might follow her unto oblivion.

" " denotes speech

_'italics'_ denotes thought

**'bold'** denotes location names

_**'bold italics'**_ denotes skill use

**

* * *

Misato Katsuragi's Apartment, Tokyo-3**

Captain Misato Katsuragi, Director of NERV Operations, could be said to be many things: a talented combat magus, a skilled tactician, or a capable (if reckless) driver, just to name a few. What she was not, however, was a morning person, as was being aptly demonstrated by her current reactions to the diffuse light of the sun streaming in through one of her windows.

'_Nnnghh…it's too early to get up…'_ the purple-haired woman groaned inside her head, childishly burying her face under the pillow in an attempt to avoid the pain of waking—because once she did wake up, she would have to go to work and deal with an inbox crammed full of electronic paperwork—

_Ping-Ping-Ping!_

—as the alert tone on her phone deigned to inform her, pitched at just the right frequency that she couldn't just ignore it.

'…_damn the technical department for customizing these phones based on our psych profiles—though I could have sworn that I turned this off after last night.'_

Given Captain Katsuragi's role as Director of NERV Operations, any time available for celebrating the defeat of the Third Angel was rather short, given that she was also in charge of cleaning up the mess left behind, issuing and approving requisition orders for repair of the fortress city (not to mention acquire more ammunition to replace the ordnance expended during the battle), making sure…certain undesirables didn't take advantage of Tokyo-3's temporarily weakened defenses to sneak into the city…and writing reports for her superiors.

Then, yesterday had featured the Third and Fourth Children being released from the NERV Medical and sent to Human Resources for processing—which, of course generated several (virtual) reams of (inevitable) paperwork, all needing her approval in one form or another, along with requiring her presence to convince them to somewhat accept NERV's proposed arrangements. As valuable resources, the Children bore watching, after all—especially given how the Fourth had survived a point-blank energy blast from the Third Angel, seeming only mildly burned, while the Third had displayed a very strange berserker form.

'_Then again, out of all those born after Second Impact, only four Children have been identified as capable of manipulating Ether well enough for combat purposes,'_ Misato mused, groaning as she turned away from the sun, trying to gain a few more minutes of precious sleep, because—

_Peck. Peck. Peck._

'_Eh? What now?'_

As someone used to lightning-fast reactions in battle, the purple-haired magus would have lashed out defensively at what had dared to touch her—save for the twin facts that the wards around her residence would have alerted her to the presence of any intruders, and that—

_Peck. Peck. Peck._

"Wark! Wark!"

—the odd pecking had become something of a ritual in the mornings, with her penguin familiar forcing her to wake up, serving as the counterbalance to her desires to just sleep the day away (a day of rest that would be well-deserved, given the events of the last week!)

'_Though I suppose Rits would call it part of my Noblesse Oblige as the Director of NERV Operations…' _the magus thought rather humorlessly, as a deeply discontent sigh escaped her lips. _'Doesn't stop __**her**__ from complaining about the excessive workload—and she even has an assistant.'_

Frankly, Misato wanted an assistant to help with paperwork if nothing else, but her request had been rather brusquely turned down by Commander Ikari, who had coldly noted that she already had a familiar, and thus did not require one.

'"_Do not waste my time with frivolous requests, Captain,"' _the Commander had warned in that cold manner of his that made the magus feel she had just been slapped. "_'Your A-Ray familiar is more than sufficient for your needs.'"_

It made her wonder just what was in Ikari's past—and who he had been before joining GEHRIN, later NERV—but this wasn't the time to ponder such things.

"Alright, alright, I'm up…what's going on?" the woman muttered, sitting up in her futon and swatting her familiar lightly on the head so that the penguin would stop pecking her. Blearily, she took a few moments to blink the fatigue from her eyes, her eyes looking around her bedroom blankly before settling on the strange flightless bird that had climbed onto her futon. "Oh?"

"Wark! Wark!" the penguin emoted, its eyes boring into hers as it held out her NERV issue cellphone between the retractable claws of its wingtips, the message light blinking an ominous orange.

"I see," Misato noted neutrally, grimacing as she gingerly took the phone from her familiar, shaking her head as she saw who sent the message. "Rits, again, eh? I guess I'd better see what she wants."

"Wark!" PenPen agreed emphatically, nodding as the bird crossed its wings expectantly. The long-suffering hot-springs A-ray was used to dealing with his nominal master's quirks and foibles (and cleaning up after them!)—as well as the…eccentricities of those that the magus tended to call "friend" – even if they didn't much act the part most of the time.

_Ping!_

Once again the phone chimed as it received a message, but this time, Misato suppressed the urge to simply ignore it, resigning herself to reading the missive before her inbox was flooded—or Ritsuko decided to play hardball by doing something else—like getting the MAGI to lock down her beer refrigerator, or issue an injunction against her purchasing anything alcoholic.

'_I'd best see what she wants before she resorts to extreme measures…'_ the Director of NERV Operations silently resolved, opening the message—only to audibly groan at the contents.

"Rits wants me to come in to evaluate the abilities of the Children through combat? And after everything that…" she muttered, not at all feigning the exasperation and annoyance in her tone. But her words trailed off scant moments later, something of a pleased expression alighting on her face. "Then again, they do say exercise is great for stress relief…"

And after the stress of dealing with far too much red tape and bureaucracy for her own good, dealing with pushy civic officials who didn't have any real power (but at the same time had to be kept cooperative for the look of things—blackmailing and ordering only worked so well, after all), and overseeing the repairs for the EVANGELION Assault Armor, a bit of simple, non-lethal combat sounded wonderful.

'_It will be good to see if the Third can really control the power he used to destroy the Angel, so we know where the Children stand,' _Misato considered, shaking her head as she dashed off a reply to her old friend. _'But still, that's not until the afternoon. So maybe I should just go back to—'_

"Wark!"

But her musings on laziness were rudely interrupted by a certain hot-springs penguin, which seemed to be glaring at her intently, as if reprimanding her.

"…fine, I'll get up," the magus conceded reluctantly, before glancing expectantly at PenPen. "Bring me a beer?"

"Wark! Wark!"

PenPen warked an emphatic refusal, shaking his rather raptor-like head with disdain as he looked away, as if to tell his lazy master to get it herself.

"Of all the…" Misato bit back a curse, not wanting to get into an argument this early in the morning—and particularly not when perfectly sober, though at the very least, she didn't suffer from hangovers anymore. Not that anyone in this age could, since the beers and wines of this age contained no actual alcohol—which was only natural, as they were not made from fermented plant products anymore, but created in factories. "Fine, I'll get it myself."

Rolling out of bed with phone in hand, the groggy magus proceeded to pad out of her bedroom to the kitchen to perform her morning ritual: downing at least one can of refreshingly cold Yebisu, serving the twin purposes of waking her up and priming her Magic Circuits for action.

_Snap-Fsh!_

In the empty apartment echoed the sound of a can being opened, quickly followed by—

_Crunch!_

—Misato slamming the empty can down on the kitchen counter, a satisfied grin on her face, though there was a tinge of embarrassment when a small burp escaped her throat.

"Ahhhhh, that really hit the spot!" she declared to herself more than to anyone else. "Nothing like a cold beer in the morning!"

At the very least, it was a pleasant way to alleviate the strains of living in a dying world for a little bit, even if it was impossible to get completely smashed from beer these days, no matter how much one downed. The active ingredient in the drink (and in most else that would have contained alcohol) was a synthetic alcohol substitute derived from benzodiazepine (Valium), after all, and had been engineered so that if the moderate buzz was too intense, the warm feelings of inebriation could be nullified by a simple antidote pill that muted the synthetic's effects on brain receptors.

There _were_ some alcoholic beverages remaining from pre-Impact times, with rare bottles of wines, liquors, and other distilled spirits miraculously preserved, but if one had thought a bottle of wine expensive before impact…

'_I can't afford those on my salary,' _the magus thought, wincing as she compared her salary to the price of just one bottle of Blue Frankish (a spicy red wine said to rival the best Pinot Noir) and a steak (from meat cultured in lab, of course) dinner. _'You'd think as someone working to save mankind, I'd get paid more, with all the expenses of living in this age…'_

Not that she could really complain, given that the food served in NERV's cafeteria was surprisingly good (good enough so that no one working there disparaged cafeteria food as some used to), as it should be, as NERV had first priority on any of the crops grown in the Geofront. And that since NERV paid for her housing and utility bill, much like most other military organizations, she didn't have to pay it out of her meager salary.

"Still, sometimes…"

But Misato trailed off as her eyes finally caught sight of an aberration in the room: the fact that the message light on the electronic memo pad of the refrigerator was blinking. To be fair, she was much more aware in combat situations, and her missing the light could be overlooked given that it was a function that she had never used until now, since except for her time in college (where she had been perhaps not the best roommate to Ritsuko), she had lived alone, and thus had never needed to leave notes for anyone she was living with.

The message read thus:

_ Shinji and I went out to pick up his stuff. Will return in the afternoon. Breakfast is on the counter. -Mana._

Short, simple, and to the point—which Misato appreciated, but…

'_Why wasn't Shinji-kun the one who left the message? Especially since he's the one who is going to be living here,' _the magus wondered, eyes narrowing at the single line of text on the screen, and more importantly, at the sender. _'And when did they leave? Surely PenPen would have…'_

She cut herself off as she realized something, head whipping about as she glared at the penguin familiar that had followed her into the kitchen, raising one inquisitive eyebrow.

"Wark?" the genetically-modified avian replied, cocking its head in a semblance of confusion and innocence. Or, at least, what passed for innocence from a lazy mischievous, beer-guzzling bird with considerable intelligence, on par with that of most humans in Tokyo-3.

Misato Katsuragi, however, was not fooled, as she continued to glare at her familiar.

"Let me guess…they bribed you with food, didn't they, PenPen?" she stated rather than asked, though her voice was not quite as harsh as it could be.

"Wa…rk, wark…"

The slight pause before responding, coupled by the humorously shifty expression on the avian's face proved as good as an admission of guilt, causing Misato to cradle her head in her hands—and to set down her empty can, retrieving a new one from the refrigerator.

'_I can already see that these living arrangements are going to be more complicated than I thought,' _the purple-haired magus groused, pursing her lips thoughtfully. _'Especially if the Fourth and the Third are already used to operating independently as an interdependent unit…'_

In some ways, she supposed it wasn't a complete shock, given that the abysmal birthrate since Second Impact meant that the two were probably the only ones their age that they knew, but Misato was still surprised at how assertive they seemed to be even in the alien environment of Tokyo-3.

'_But maybe it's a good thing. With what we're asking of them, they won't be children much longer…or if so, only in name.'_

Still, even if the Children were legally emancipated, seen as having reached the age of majority in the eyes of the law, the Director of NERV Operations was still responsible for keeping track of them, seeing as they were the only ones who could effectively fight of the Angels.

'_Or things that are far worse than Angels…'_ she mused, fragments of a terrible scene from fifteen years ago coming unbidden to her mind, with images of a sea of crystal bound in non-Euclidian geometries and the spider from beyond the stars which lurked within. _'Fifteen years, and I still remember…'_

Even if the only survivor of Second Impact's Ground Zero had wanted to forget, the scar stretching from groin to chest (impossible to eliminate via any means, magical or otherwise) and the way her body had changed after Impact made that impossible, serving as a daily reminder of what had transpired long ago—a reminder that fueled her resolve to do what was necessary.

Moving with purpose now, Misato quickly looked into the room that had been set aside for Shinji, as well as the guest room that Mana had been using, finding them empty, as expected, with the Children having taken their NERV-issue cellphones and ID cards with them.

'_Smart of them, since those items grant access to their digital funds…'_

Coins and paper money (much like much else made of paper) had gone out of style since Second Impact, with the cataclysm accelerating the movement towards electronic money (and email – which was part of why the one-word letter from Gendo had had such a significant impact on Shinji – because it was written on actual paper, exceedingly rare these days), leading to greater convenience for most.

Of course, this also made things more convenient for Misato Katsuragi, as it gave her an easy way to locate the Children.

With a small smile, she lifted her own cell phone and flipped it open again, pushing a special button above the rounded dialpad – one that allowed upper-level NERV access to certain…special functions, one of which was contacting the MAGI for requests.

_Click!_

"Caspar speaking," an arch voice spoke from the speaker of the phone. "Do you require assistance, Captain Katsuragi?"

A deep swing of Yebisu Beer, sent a slug of cool liquid refreshingly down her throat.

"Caspar, locate the Third and Fourth Children," the Director of Operations requested of the AI, who acted as something of a virtual concierge in Tokyo-3. Not terribly surprising, since the MAGI were the ones who actually ran most of the city…

"Order received. One moment please."

There was a momentary pause as her demand was evaluated for validity, the MAGI conferring briefly before the voice of Caspar issued forth once again, with an image popping up on her phone marked with their current locations.

"The Third and Fourth Children are on the surface level," Caspar related, "moving northeast on foot through Sector C-2. Their destination appears to be a building registered to Irin Associates. Do you require transport to their location, Captain?"

'_The contractor who helps investigate supernatural phenomenon? Interesting …seems they know where they're going, then…'_

"That won't be necessary," Misato stated, declining the offer. "However, please notify them about the training this afternoon and have Section 2 keep watch remotely."

"Order received," the voice of the AI spoke once again. "_Sine labore nihil._ Please continue to strive for the salvation of mankind."

With that, Caspar terminated the connection, leaving a hungry Misato to wander back into the kitchen, wondering what the prepared breakfast would be.

'_Better than instant, I hope…'_

**

* * *

Irin Associates, Tokyo-3**

As the sun slowly rose above the misty mountains ringing Tokyo-3, a lone silhouette could be seen on the roof of what seemed to the untrained eye an abandoned building, frowning ever so slightly as he gazed listlessly at the scars left in the meager skyline of one of mankind's artificial sanctuaries by the Angel's attack with his one functional eye, slate grey like the color of a cloudy sky (his other covered by a black eyepatch that gave him a vaguely piratical look).

The wind blew, causing his jet black trenchcoat to flutter out behind him, as well as disguising the slightly rumpled condition of his shirt and pants, indicating yet another late night of work, as had been more or less the norm these past few weeks.

The place where he stood was about fifteen meters aboveground, not quite high enough that one could call it a bird's eye view, but it enough for gazing at the city, looking at face of it that one couldn't discover, could hardly even imagine from the ground. And it was here that Mitsuru Kamekura found it easier to think, finding himself most at ease unrestricted by the walls of a building or by the confinement of an underground cavern. Yes, the Geofront was rather large, and many of the accommodations within had been built with human considerations in mind, but being on the surface, able to see the sky, was something of the natural state of humanity.

That was why he stood more or less unprotected on the roof of the workshop/apartment that he shared with Azaka Kokutou, save for the medication that nearly every pre-Impact human required just to breathe. Given the fact that the Ether concentration was currently higher than the norm, due to the Angel battle and the subsequent breakdown of its corpse, most would choose to wear at least a gas mask, if not more protective gear, but Mitsuru was a little different.

Not different in the way that Misato was different, of course, since only she could lay claim to being a pre-Impact human who didn't need chemical assistance—if in fact she was still completely human, after everything she had been through—just different in the way that he didn't quite care. He wasn't afraid of living in uncertainty, as it was only in the time of hope and anxiety that he truly felt alive.

For in the end, death came for all things. No matter what angle one might take, that fundamental tragedy cannot entirely be overthrown, as even the deathless might be destroyed. But…if in that tragedy of death, something new could be born, perhaps that might be a glimmer of happiness for those who came after.

'_And that is the meager encouragement humanity strives for…'_

It was hardly the first time that the Special Investigator had looked upon the palette of grey and brown and black that characterized the post-Impact world, nor the first time that he had contemplated the world in which the supposed "Sanctuary of Mankind" had been built, but the craters and devastation left behind by the fight against the Third Angel were a fresh reminder of the danger in these times, and the inevitability of ruin.

"It is an odd world we live in, with peace as the aberration, and a battle for survival as the standard,"Special Investigator Mitsuru Kamekura muttered, shaking his head as his lips twitched slightly south of neutral. "Man against man, man against environment, man against evil-shaped forms too massive to compare, our dying screams making no sound, calling out to all we have ever known, with no reply save for endless echoes in the distance."

A world in which many lived on with neither expectation nor hope in the future, where the very air was toxic to breathe, and many more died than were born each year. Humanity was now an endangered species, clinging to a tenuous existence only with the aid of technology—though, to be fair, this still set it ahead of most other organisms.

'_This isn't the first time I have lived such an existence…' _the detective thought to himself, recalling a time from nearly twenty years ago, before he had been stripped of his power to 'calculate' a certain future—a power that had taken humanity from his mind, since there was no uncertainty, no value in the present. In a sense, he had become a machine, isolating himself from society and becoming an anonymous bomber, who received orders on the cell phone and completed his jobs without being caught by the police. _'Of course the last time, I was stopped by Death herself coming for me…' _

That was the first time that Mitsuru Kamekura had known uncertainty since the awakening of his gift, the first time he had truly known what it was to be afraid, truly known that he had failed, that in the very next instant, his life would be at an end. But then a miracle happened: the beautiful figure of Death spared his life, seemingly disgusted by his cowardice, satisfied with having destroyed his ability to see the absolute future.

'_I never imagined that I would end up working for Death …or that my story would convince her daughter to spare my life,' _the man thought to himself, an ironic little smile crossing his lips at the thought of his young 'benefactor', who had apparently talked her mother out of having him killed or such after he had fallen into debt—all because he had written her favorite book. _'But then, there was always much I did not foresee, wasn't there?'_

A small laugh, hollow and self-deprecating, issued from his lips, as the Special Investigator rifled through some of those older memories, half wondering why he was seeing these events replay themselves in his memory after so long.

"Maybe it was the corpses…" the Special Investigator muttered, shaking his head as he remembered the scenes of carnage he had examined after the Angel attack, moving among NERV staff with a practiced ease. There had been several collapsed buildings, a damaged shelter, and curiously, an inbound train with an interior caked with dried blood, ash, and rotting body parts. _'The first two are obviously collateral damage from the attack of the Angel, but the last was almost certainly an attack by The Dead, given that ash was involved..._'

Not a prospect that overly pleased him, since several hundred people from all over Kyushu had been aboard that train, though the exact passenger list was unknown, given that the solid-state drives that recorded such information on the train and in the station, not being radiation-hardened, had been wiped by the EMP from the UN's N2 bomb.

'_Which certainly doesn't help with identifying the unfortunate victims, isolating any potential motives for the attack (besides the usual hunger), or determining the identities of those who fought them off,' _the detective thought to himself, noting that among the unfortunate individuals aboard the train, at least one must have been a trained fighter of some sort to have eliminated so many of the Dead—possibly even a Demon Hunter.

But who could it have been?

If Shiki Ryougi, the person he thought of as his personal grim reaper, was anywhere near Japan, she would have been at the top of his list of suspects, but Mitsuru knew full well that his…Boss was not, having disappeared several years ago on a mission of sorts.

In the absence of the demon slayer, his only clues was a high level of Ether mixed into the remains, much higher than could be explained by a simple containment breach, or a failure of the filters—though failed they _had, _clogged with Ether concentrated enough to kill quite a few people.

This meant that whoever had driven off the ghouls was most likely able to manipulate Ether to an alarming degree – possibly at the level of a full Ether Liner, though the only ones he knew of were the First and Second Child.

Could it have been the First? No…she had been out of commission for at least a few days, following a certain incident he was not at liberty to talk about—and she had almost certainly not been aboard that train.

The Second? Even more ridiculous, as she was in Germany, as the MAGI had confirmed.

But then…

'…_a Third Child, perhaps?'_

It was certainly possible, perhaps even probable that this was so, given that someone had defeated the Angel, with both EVANGELION Assault Armors in use during the battle.

With a sigh, Special Investigator Mitsuru Kamekura withdrew a slim cell phone from his pocket, a mostly black mobile with a cover emblazoned with the standard of scales balanced over a sword, and the words "_The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power", _a quote drawn from the words of William Shakespeare.

One of the more unique phones to come out of NERV R&D, this was one that never needed charging, due to the use of nanoscale piezoelectrics (using the kinetic energy of a person moving or talking) and absorption of light to continually regenerate the phone-battery, so that the battery life was effectively infinite.

Most people in Tokyo-3 had no idea what it meant, but to those in the know, it signified that he was a Special Investigator, one of those who operated in relative secrecy as a check against NERV's absolute power, evaluating effectiveness on the ground, making sure the city was protected from threats internal or external, and ensuring that some of the higher-ranked officers did not abuse their powers for trivial or personal needs.

'_Ensuring that we can catch the wheel that breaks the butterfly,' _he thought to himself, alluding to a line from one of Alexander Pope's works, where "breaking a butterfly upon a wheel" meant putting massive effort into achieving something minor or unimportant. _'Which is why we exist outside of the general chain of command, though in certain situations, such as an ongoing investigation, our orders can supersede those of general personnel. '_

Those affiliated with NERV and given access to the special phones had quite a few privileges unknown to the rank and file, after all, such as being able to contact the MAGI for requests, taking control of surveillance, locking down the city, accessing the defense systems, issuing orders to civic authorities, or a host of other things that could be done through NERV's discretionary funds—though any outstanding requests were forwarded to the other staff—and at least one Investigator, for future reference.

With that in mind, the detective pressed a special button on the phone, giving him a direct connection with one of the three MAGI subunits.

"Melchior speaking," the clinical voice of Naoko Akagi as scientist spoke through his headset, businesslike as always.

"Melchior, I would you to confirm some information for me of relevance to an ongoing investigation," Mitsuru stated, using some rather more formal language in case someone were to check _his _activity logs on the MAGI, as he sometimes checked those of others.

"Of course, Investigator," the MAGI subunit responded professionally, as it was supposed to.

"As I understand it, there were two EVANGELION Armors deployed against the Angel, but up to the day before the Angel attack, only the First Child was present in Tokyo-3," he stated, his tired mind beginning to connect the dots. He generally avoided making special requests of the MAGI, since he didn't like to leave a record of his activities, but sometimes there was no help for it. "Can you divulge the identity of the operator of Unit-01?"

A momentary pause, as if the MAGI unit were checking his clearance levels against those on record.

"Request accepted. The operator of Unit-01 was the Third Child, Ether Liner Shinji Ikari."

Mitsuru's eyes widened fractionally at this, as he knew that name quite well—and the Child behind it, considering that Shinji had spent some time in his office as a young boy, often tagging along with Mana. And of course, Ikari just happened to be the surname of the Commander of NERV, so…

"When did he arrive in Tokyo-3?"

Another momentary pause.

"Inconclusive – too much information is missing due to the aftereffects of EMP."

The Special Investigator sighed, rolling his one good eye.

"Let's ask this another way then - extrapolating from known data, such as his time of arrival at NERV Headquarters, is it likely that he was on board the ghoul-attacked train?"

"Working. Analysis indicates an 85% probability of this scenario being correct."

A raised eyebrow.

"Melchior, can you give me the current whereabouts of the Third Child?" Mitsuru Kamekura asked flatly. Having discovered the identity of the mysterious Ether Liner who had joined the battle against the Angel—and had most likely been on the train, the Special Investigator wanted to have a talk with him, if only to find out if there was a reason that Dead Apostles might be after him, or whether his being involved had simply been a coincidence.

Another momentary pause.

"The Third Child is approaching the Irin Associates building on foot from ground level, ETA 20 minutes, Investigator," the voice of Naoko Akagi as scientist responded. "Will there be anything further?"

"No, that will be all," Mitsuru replied after a brief instant of hesitation. It seemed he would get the chance to talk to the young man more quickly than he had expected—though the question of why the Third Child was in the area nagged at him in the corner of his mind. "Thank you for your assistance."

"_Quis custodiet ipsos custodies," _the AI said in return, moving to its standard closing before terminating the connection. "Please continue watching over the protectors of mankind."

Closing the phone, the detective looked thoughtfully at the phone, wondering if Mana Ryougi had told the Third the address of the building he shared with Azaka. There was a bounded field around it, after all, making the place undetectable via hypnotic suggestion—unless one knew it was there and was specifically looking for it.

'_Who watches the watchmen indeed…' _the detective and author mused, rubbing his eyes in a futile effort to get rid of his fatigue, expression gloomy, though a hint of a smile stole across his lips as he heard the distinctive _click!_ of the roof access door opening.

"Oh, you were up here, Mitsuru? Watching over things, I expect?" a wry female voice spoke into the silence, as the Special Investigator turned to see his business partner Azaka Kokutou walking up behind him, clad in her usual blouse and slacks, with a respirator half-mask dangling from one arm. "I thought you would have left by now—that, or be asleep."

"I wanted to wait for you to get back, as late as you usually are," came the gruff reply, though it lacked any real sting to it. "I can't leave the office abandoned, now, can I?"

"Heh…don't tell me you were worried, Mitsuru," Azaka returned saucily, arching a slender eyebrow as she took in the fact that the detective had once again decided to go without protective gear. Even if it was safe enough to go without within the wards, outside of them was a different story. "You know perfectly well that I can take care of myself—unlike a certain picture-book author I know."

"Yeah, I'm just a waste of resources, like my more recent books, I am quite aware of that," was Mitsuru's answer, but though his words were self-deprecating, his tone was rather droll. ""

The flame magus scoffed, shaking her head as she walked up beside him, putting a hand on the detective's shoulder.

"If you're fishing for compliments, you know isn't going to work," the combat specialist of Irin Associates shot back, voice rather vitriolic. "I mean, what is there to compliment. You're plain, your right eye doesn't work, you're weak towards women, and you're something of a workaholic, Mr. Special Investigator. Not to mention that you're completely hopeless in a fight, and—"

"Right, so why don't you tell me how you _really_ feel," the Special Investigator interjected, glancing over at Azaka with a bit of amusement, with the two of them chuckling as they met one another's eyes and smiled ever so slightly.

"Idiot…you know that well enough," the flame magus smirked, though she didn't remove her hand from the detective's shoulder. "Without me saying it, at that…"

"After almost five years with you, I'd certainly hope so…"

The two stood together for some time in a comfortable silence, just looking out over the city in peace—a peace that was unfortunately interrupted when the wards indicated someone at the door.

'_It seems the Third Child has arrived…'_

With her eyes, Azaka silently bade the detective to see who had come by and for what reason, since it was now the day, and as such, his turn to run the office. As the main combat specialist, she usually went out at night to investigate matters at need, including meeting with some of the more…dangerous characters who kept Dead Apostles from entering Tokyo-3.

Mitsuru nodded, turning to the door and walking down the stairs back to the office without looking back. A pity, that, for if he had, perhaps he would have seen the dangerous little smirk on the magus' lips.

**

* * *

Streets of Tokyo-3, Surface Level**

For a dense urban environment, Tokyo-3 was actually a very safe place to be during the day, whether the surface or the Geofront, since major crime was nearly non-existent in the here and now, a matter that largely had to do with the fact that the population was down, electronic money was tied to biometric identification devices, and that very few went up to the surface if they could help it, due to the levels of Ether contamination likely to be present, except if they needed to for work.

Work for some was rebuilding damaged parts of the city, for others managing the geothermal plants that provided NERV with power, maintaining the air filters or other such, and much more—these were but a sample of why one might need to be on the surface.

Walking through the surface city in the early morning, Mana and Shinji could see that this was true, since where the streets had been deserted the night before, a few people were present now, most of them moving briskly, seeming rather inappropriately dressed for summer, though this was excusable, considering that they were bundled up to minimize their exposure to Ether, wearing breath masks and protective clothing thick enough that it must have been quite uncomfortable. The older they were, the more protection they seemed to require, as the dosages of drugs required to compensate for the presence of the airborne toxins tended to become otherwise prohibitive.

There were a few people around their age who went about without any protection, but not as many as one might think…

'_Even so, it's strange how many people there are in this city,' _Shinji observed, feeling a small degree of discomfort around the dribs and drabbles of crowds that passed by. At the very least, there were still more people present than in the deserted streets of old Mifune, more people than he had ever seen in one place—when he wasn't fighting for his life, that was. _'I guess Tokyo-3 must really be where everyone wants to go, even if…'_

The Third Child froze for a moment, swallowing as flashes from the Angel battle, as well as the…unpleasant journey into the city, and how the people in the inbound train had been turned into ghouls—targets that he had been forced to kill, staining his hands once again with blood in a fit of rage.

'_No…I did what I had to do. It was either them or me…'_

It was easy enough to say, easy enough to believe in the moment, when adrenaline pumped through one's veins, skill and power coming together to effect the elimination of an obstacle to survival. It was easy to kill, easy to destroy—but coping with the aftermath was much more difficult, or so he had found, especially when walking among throngs of people, wondering just many of them would die if he failed.

'_Can I really—'_

The shock of physical contact jarred him from his trance, with the Third stiffening at once, glancing over towards the one that touched him, only to find himself looking into the Fourth's clear blue eyes, dark with concern.

"You're really a bit like a hedgehog, aren't you?" Mana commented quietly, withdrawing her hand as her partner relaxed. "Prickly about being around strangers, I mean."

"You know why," Shinji countered, with a brittle smile on his lips as he shook his head. "The only times I've been around this many people…"

"Yeah, I'd guess I'd be on edge too, if I were you…especially since crowds remind you of ghouls, right?" the Fourth Child noted, her lips curving into a soft smile as she reached out and grabbed hold of his sleeve, giving her friend a considering look. "But you don't have to worry, we're partners, right? So I'll be there to watch your back, right?"

"We do work well together," the Third Child admitted, though it really wasn't much of an admission, considering that the Fourth already knew this, since she had been right next to him. "How are you so calm, anyway, with everything going on?"

"Because you already worry too much, and both of us can't be gloomy," Mana quipped mischievously, eyes flashing in the morning light. "That would be far too predictable…and a little boring, really."

"Heh…I guess," the Third Child muttered, fragile smile softening into something a little more genuine as they continued to walk, passing by yet more buildings. "You make a frightening amount of sense sometimes."

"Like I said, one of us has to, right?" the Fourth shot back, waggling her eyebrows at the Third and making him chuckle, despite himself.

"That someone being me?" Shinji quipped, with a perfectly innocent expression on his face, earning him a mock punch to the shoulder from his childhood friend.

"You keep on believing that…"

The two continued walking for some time, talking of various things, noting some of the various structures they passed by, even going through a park (if one could call something without vegetation a park, built around a rock garden that an analogue of the city and its surrounding terrain, with a footbath to the side mirroring the position of Lake Ashinoko), until at last they arrived at the address of the non-descript five story building where Mana had originally sent their belongings.

**

* * *

Irin Associates, Tokyo-3**

At Azaka's bidding, when the wards had indicated the presence of an approaching visitor, Special Investigator Misturu Kamekura had gone down from the roof to the antechamber of the main office, pausing just long enough to pick up a copy of _Tears of a Vampire _on a whim—

_Knock! Knock!_

—just as a polite rapping-rapping-rapping issued from the chamber door, with the detective opening it to reveal the miraculous figure of—

_Slam!_

'_Mana…?'_

—but he closed the door as soon as he saw who was outside, thinking it was impossible.

"I need to stop going out into the unfiltered air, especially if I'm hallucinating about Mana Ryougi being in Tokyo-3 and in front of my door," he muttered untidily, cradling his upper face in one hand, barely suppressing a yawn as he did so. "Or maybe it's the lack of sleep – this most recent investigation has not been good for my sleeping habits."

"That wasn't very nice, Mit-su-ru-san," the Fourth Child spoke in a hurt voice, drawing out the syllables in his name as she did when she wasn't pleased. "Open the door."

"And now my hallucinations are talking to me..." he continued, feeling a bad headache coming on. Of all the people he had expected to see in Tokyo-3, the daughter of Shiki Ryougi wasn't one of them—and if she had run away from Mifune without permission just to come to the city, something told him that the other members of the Ryougi clan would see this as something beyond simple trouble.

A beautiful child she might be, much like her mother, and his benefactor, at that—but to the detective, Mana was bad luck. If he could, he'd pinch her by the neck and fling her out the window like a cat—

'…_though knowing her, she'd land just fine and say that it was fun…'_

"You know I'm not a hallucination, Mitsuru-san, or would I have set off the wards?" came a pointed question, interrupting his thoughts, just as footsteps indicated the presence of Azaka coming into the office from the roof, the devilish smirk on her face a perfect match for the one he was sure was on Mana's.

'…_some days, I forget the two are related. And then some days, it's impossible to forget…'_

"I think you'd better let her in—she'll get in eventually, one way or another, and if you open the door, she won't be tempted to break it down," Azaka interjected, casting a glance over her shoulder at some of the boxes in the corner. "Her belongings are in here, after all…"

The Special Investigator flashed the flame magus a look of fatigue and exasperation, as he asked: "And just when were you planning to tell me about this?"

"There wasn't a chance, since our schedules didn't really overlap," Azaka replied with a sly smile. "And you certainly didn't need more stress after this investigation."

Knowing that he could not win against that smile (he never could, since he was fairly weak towards powerful women), Mitsuru relented, taking two steps forward and opening the door to reveal the form of Mana Ryougi, who quickly pushed her way in (just as she had the first time he saw her long ago), followed by—

'_Ah…the Third Child.'_

Seeing that Mana was accompanied by Shinji Ikari (or was it the other way around?), who looked rather older than the last time the detective had seen him, Mitsuru began to have an idea what was going on.

"Feh. You're in a foul mood again, Mitsuru-san," the Ryougi quipped by way of greeting. "I came all the way from Mifune to see you and you didn't want to let me in? Are you having money troubles again?"

The girl pouted, looking mildly displeased, but it was poor Mitsuru who wanted to bury his face in his hands, as Azaka simply leaned against the wall, looking on amusedly at the proceedings, and Shinji just looked on.

"…I don't believe this," the man groused, worst-case scenarios already running through his mind, as he considered the disadvantages of being on the bad side of the Ryougi clan. It was true that they didn't have influence in Tokyo-3, but… "You didn't just leave Mifune without permission, did you? Do you really want to kill me that badly, Lady Mana?"

"Of course not…why would I do something so pointless?" the Fourth Child replied, perfect innocence in her tone —something that the detective had come to distrust over the years. Her smile bloomed like a flower as she curtseyed to the Special Investigator elegantly. "I am a Ryougi, after all, like my mother. Fourth Child Mana Ryougi, that is."

'_A Child…an Ether Liner then? This fits…this fits all too well…somehow, I thought she might be involved with this…that girl is just bad luck…'_

Mitsuru's expression blanked at this new piece of information, his one eye from the two Children to the tablet on his desk, where the written summary of his findings about the ghoul attack were.

"Something on your mind, Mit-su-ru-san?" Mana asked quietly, dragging out each syllable in the manner that amused her.

"Why do I think that you and Shinji were on the train attacked by ghouls_?_" the Special Investigator countered, a question for a question, more than a hint of wry exasperation in his voice.

"Because you're good at figuring things out, just like Papa?" the Ryougi replied, putting a finger to her lips, seeming almost…pleased at this. "You're still lacking in sensitivity for a picture book author, though I like the new eyepatch."

"Blame your Aunt Azaka for that one," Mitsuru grumbled, shooting Azaka a dark look. "She probably wanted to surprise you."

Azaka met his gaze with guileless eyes, shrugging as if to say "no harm done", which the detective, to his merit, simply let pass. It was true, after all, and he supposed it had protected his eye from possible necrosis from the Ether…

"As for you, Shinji Ikari," Azaka Kokutou spoke up, straightening from her perch against the wall and giving the Third Child a smile. "You've grown from when last I saw you."

Then the magus' eyes hardened as she looked over the two Children, nodding slowly at what she noted: tensions, ready stances, toned muscles, and a trace of melancholy.

"You've killed since then, haven't you?" Azaka asked softly, though it wasn't really a question. "And I mean, before the Angel…"

Two simple nods, one from each Child.

"…like parent, like child, I suppose," the flame magus murmured, lips twisting as she remembered her former best friend / rival Shiki Ryougi, who to many was akin to death itself, though Shinji's eyebrows drew together at this, since he didn't know much at all about his father. "In any case, welcome to our humble abode and place of business in Tokyo-3, a detective agency that handles cases involving supernatural events—and yes, we do work with NERV. Mitsuru-san functions as detective and investigator, having been assigned to the task by Shiki, and I help to deal with situations that are uncovered, by whatever means were necessary."

She smiled then, looking at the two.

"Come on, I'll show you around."

Sometime later, after Azaka and Mitsuru had given the Children a tour of the apartment/workshop they shared, from the training / practice range (where Azaka ignited plushies and other targets to keep her accuracy sharp) to the office, to the roof, had assigned a room for Mana, and had separated out Shinji's stuff, a call had come from someone named "Balthasar" (who sounded suspiciously like Dr. Akagi), informing the two that they had an appointment for training and evaluation at NERV, offering transport of the Children to Headquarters and the Third's belongings to Captain Katsuragi's residence.

Naturally, they accepted.

**

* * *

NERV HQ, Tokyo-3**

Upon arriving at NERV HQ, the Third and Fourth Children were met by a rather mousy 1st Lieutenant by the name of Maya Ibuki, who escorted them down the metallic corridors of NERV (which as Shinji reflected, would never win any awards in interior decoration) to what they assumed was the antechamber for a training facility, where the two were told to change into special training uniforms, resembling nothing so much as a nigh skin-tight (but still comfortable) jumpsuit-or a bodyskin, such as competitive swimmers wore.

'_Interesting material,' _Shinji thought upon taking hold of one of them, noting that there were some designs on it that seemed vaguely like circuitry. _'I wonder why we need this…maybe its to better sync with the EVANGELION Armors?'_

'_Seems easy enough to move around in—flexible yet durable,' _Mana noted, testing its stretch and give to make sure it wouldn't break easily. _'An underlayer for the Armor, perhaps? Or perhaps something like virtual reality gear, providing artificial resistance to help simulate different environments?'_

But they weren't given time to question, and so simply changed, before walking out the door into a surprisingly well-furnished dojo environment, where they were told to engage in some simple warm-ups and sparring exercises to acclimate themselves with the gear.

Which was where they found themselves doing now, moving in a dance-like rhythm as they sparred against one another, starting with basic hand to hand combat in a variety of styles (but especially Aikido, considering that that art translated well into swordplay), before transitioning to weapons training—

_Crack! Clash! _

—Mana with one katana-length bokken, Shinji with two shorter ones, to mirror the Knight Arms that they were capable of summoning (without actually having to summon the blades, allowing them to demonstrate on personal skills without having to drain themselves of Ether quite yet.)

Once-twice-three times they clashed, attacking, evading, striking, parrying, blocking outright, in a series of feints, misdirections and assaults that left them both wary. They knew each other's styles well, as they had grown up sparring against the other (and against Mana's mother, against whom neither had ever won), but in the end, when time was called, Shinji had still failed to beat Mana even once.

'_Heh…if I had a self-hypnosis ability to improve my skill when holding a sword, I'd probably do better…' _Shinji thought to himself, not too upset since it had been close each time, meaning that his level wasn't too far behind hers. Besides which, there were some perks to dual-wielding, in that one could trap an enemy weapon while attacking—though Mana knew better to fall into that trap, using her longer reach expertly. _'Ether weapons are different though…'_

"Very good," Ritsuko Akagi noted, observing the two critically, and making sure that the MAGI had recorded their demonstration for further analysis. The Childrens' combat data would be needed to create effective training simulations after all. "You two are fairly skilled at swordplay, though skill at conventional arms alone will not defeat an Angel. Do you understand?"

"Yes," both Children responded in unison, slightly out of breath from the exertions they had been put through. Combat burned calories more quickly than most other things, after all.

"Today," the good doctor explained, "we are gathering data to help us generate a training program, where we can simulate fights against both human foes and the Angels using advanced virtual reality technology and a neural interface, similar to that you use for the EVANGELION Armor. Rest assured, it will not be a mere video game, and certainly not as simple as centering a target and pulling a switch. As your minds will be linked to it, you will be exercising yourselves, moving about, feeling every bit as fatigued as you would in real combat, with the exception of having to summon your blades."

"Interesting," Shinji said, while Mana merely nodded.

"I'm pleased you agree. Excellent," the bottle blonde intoned with a thin smile, before turning to a door into the dojo. "In that case, please come in, Captain Katsuragi. It is time for Stage II of today's evaluation."

'_Stage II? Why don't I like the sound of that?' _Shinji thought to himself, with Mana having some suspicions about what this training could be, as Misato and PenPen emerged from a door at the far end of the training facility, with the magus wearing protective gear that resembled a light version of the EVANGELION Armor—a very basic version without strength or reflex enhancement, but still afforded a good deal of protection and mobility.

"Stage II," Misato voiced, a ball of lightning forming over one hand, while a ball of shadow hovered over the other, "will involve manifesting your Knight Arms in difficult environments, or live combat conditions, without much Ether available to you, and disabling me non-lethally. My familiar and I, who are skilled at basic Ether manipulation and shadow magecraft, respectively, will be…helping you in this."

"Wark!" PenPen agreed, the sound from his beak decidedly…bloodthirsty, in Shinji's mind.

'_I hope I don't get too angry during this…'_

"Try not to go overboard, Katsuragi," Ritsuko warned, something that neither of the Children found very reassuring. "Third Child, Fourth Child…you will first deal with the attacks, and then as a team. Each individual, and team, will fight for half an hour. Remember—non-lethally is the word of the day."

The last line was only half-joking, since the two did remember what happened in the Third Angel battle, when Shinji had just gone berserk, destroying the Angel with contemptuous ease. Still, he hadn't seemed to display such a high level of ability until the Fourth was hurt, so now would be the time to test their normal talents.

"Third Child, you're up."

Surging to his feet, Shinji made his way to stand before Misato—

_Whirr!_

—as five tendrils of shadow lashed out at the Third Child, who—

_Slash!_

—jumped backwards instinctively, blocking and deflecting them with twin blades wrought of darkness deeper than the blackest night, a slightly more aggressive cast on his features as the battle was joined!

* * *

**A/N**: My apologies for the delays in getting this posted. With Anime Expo last week and a number of things this week, I had less time than I thought I would. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new chapter, so please read and review, or leave any other feedback should you have comments, questions, or complaints.


	6. Memories of Once

**Evangel Notes: Requiem for a World**

A Neon Genesis Evangelion / Angel Notes Crossover

Disclaimer: In this particular universe, I do not own or in any way shape or form hold a claim to Neon Genesis Evangelion, Angel Notes, Kara no Kyoukai, any other elements of the Nasuverse, or any other modern works that I may reference in this story.

In 2000 AD, the cataclysm known as Second Impact destroyed most of the Southern Hemisphere, a global catastrophe that brought modern civilization to its knees. Fifteen years later, things have only become worse, with the mortally wounded world caught in its final throes: the continents cracking and tearing apart from massive tectonic shifts, crops refuse to grow, animal life has become all but extinct, and the very air is filled with "Grain" or "True Ether", a substance that has reduced birth rates near to nothing, on top of proving violently toxic to anyone born before Second Impact.

In the face of this, humanity clings to survival due to its tenacity, scraping away at the edge of the darkness with fire, using every ounce of its creativity and technological ingenuity to stave off the end – using medicines and supplements to help adapt to the dying world, air purification devices to filter the toxins from their dwellings, environmentally controlled geofronts for rebuilding their devastated cities and raising what crops they can.

But things are about to take a turn for the worse, as the Angels begin to awaken from their aeons-long slumber in the watery depths, and last gasps of the dying world have reached the Aristoteles, vast and alien powers drifting in the void of space—beings without rules, without minds, without the concept of death itself, who come in response to Earth's last wish—that humanity, which slew her, might follow her unto oblivion.

" " denotes speech

_'italics'_ denotes thought

**'bold'** denotes location names

_**'bold italics'**_ denotes skill use

* * *

**Undisclosed Location**

Night was a time for those like her, a time when creatures who had long 'go overcome natural death stalked the earth anon, oft for meal or merriment, or to do one other harm. Inhuman beings whose true selves could not rise in light of day, thriving 'stead under the bloody moonlight, goals and musings oft unknown or worn away. Unknown even to them after the passing of a long enough age, as immortality had a strange way of preserving body, not the mind, from the tireless scythe of Time, the eternal predator that outstripped even they.

But she, one of the youngest in this fell garden of sinners, knew her purpose well, a desire to destroy that blazed white-hot in her soul, even as the rest of the world began to darken and crumble. She was a strange one, after all, a contradiction in terms – young and yet untimely old, kind yet merciless to those she wished to destroy, living on that in the end she might be slain.

It made her unusual amidst a group who had fled the maw of death with all their might, and perhaps had even let her cling to sanity, remaining aloof and clear-eyed, when the rest had turned to warring amongst themselves in earnest, cold tensions flaring hot at the end of the world. She did not much care for their politics or struggles, nor for the loss of life these caused – merely seeking out her eternal enemy, relentless, without pause.

So, on this cold and dreary night, with the orb of the blood-stained moon looming overhead, she found herself wandering once again, feet retracing her foe's movements with a quiet certainty, as sure of what his actions were if they'd been her own on an endless chase that had taken her around the world, through burned out towns and cities of the dead, desolate wastelands and long-abandoned citadels, places sometimes hidden from the view of man, and sometimes in all too plain sight.

This time, her wanderings took her to a rustic mountain village, garments fluttering as she walked through deserted streets, flakes of pure-white snow wafting gently about her, slightly disturbed by the wake of her passing. It was an oddly peaceful vista, with the ghostly light of the low-hanging moon washing out the imperfections and flaws revealed all too readily by day, almost drawing her honed senses into a lull – a sense of false tranquility that she kept from succumbing to by force of will, form tensing like a drawn bow as she continued on, crunching fallen snow underfoot.

'_Something is odd about this place…'_

Something she could not immediately identify, but which nagged at the back of her mind more insistently the longer she remained, the set of her frame and features tensing like drawn bow, betraying a grim trepidation. And then she froze all at once as formerly overlooked details began to register in her mind, awakening the deep seated terrors of a night of blood and violence when she had lost control…

The acrid tang of smoke and ozone lingering in the air…

_No._

The way the falling 'snow' stained her long, dark robes, like soot…or ash…

_No._

The sudden surge of murderous intent petrifying the town…

_No._

…and the bloody feel of a Reality Marble that she knew all too well, forbidden knowledge long ago inscribed upon her soul.

_No..no…nonoNONONONONONOONNONONONONO…!_

In an instant, calmness and subtlety were discarded, caution thrown to the wind as the figure _flickered_, face twisting into a rictus of fury, her form blurring as she broke into a full-tilt run, every Circuit in her body straining as prana poured into her limbs, reinforcing her beyond mortal speed or strength. Feet closing distance, robes fluttering behind her, she _moved_, covering ground in leaps and bounds as she headed towards the village's town hall, where in her heart of hearts she knew disaster lurked.

_Damnit damnit damnit!_

The wanderer reeled as she plowed into a bounded field, and flaring prana, pushed past it, feeling as if a wall of flame barred her way, a convergence of sheer oppressive heat that roiled, toiled, boiled over, overwhelming – scorching eyes, choking lungs, searing flesh with fiery tongues that ripped the nerves from under skin, a cutting torch melting bones, sinew, and sanity.

**DIE DIE DIE.**

"…Guh!"

A sickening _squelch, _as the figure materialized a long, rapier-like sword in her hand—and plunged it through her arm, forcing herself to focus on the sensation of cold steel ramming through her flesh and withdrawing as she tore free at last…and stepped into hell.

A putrid stench.

Eyes. Eyes. Accusing eyes.

**DIE.**

Bodies, torn up, unrecognizable after an orgy of destruction, with entrails, organs, blood splattered all o'er the walls like a coat of fresh paint.

Limbs, half-dissolved to ash, flailing about weakly, as melted lumps of flesh twitched in vain, poking like macabre islands out of a sea of blood and garbage.

A throne of corpses perched upon a dais, with two too-familiar figures standing in the middle—one the nude figure of her nightmare self bound by cold metallic chains, who wore a look of shock (and nothing else besides) at the arm thrust though her chest, a clawed hand grasping her still-beating heart.

"Ar..cu…"

But her dark doppelganger never had a chance to finish, as her assailant crushed Dark Elesia's heart with a sickening gurgle-splat, the crimson droplets of fresh blood splattering over the white and gold of the killer's dress – a killer who turned to look upon the wanderer with flashing golden eyes knew all too well—as this was the day that she had died—and it was her upon that nightmare throne.

"Back again…_Roa_?" the White Princess of the True Ancestors inquired, words laced with venom as she withdrew her hand from the fallen's chest, and fixed her attention on the interloper.

Three Black Keys appeared in the wanderer's hands, tossed _whirr whirr whirr_ one after another at the figure in white, but the thrown daggers didn't come close to striking, as the air about the White Princess began to waver, with murderous intent keeping the black-clad immortal from running.

It was futile. Retreat was futile. Defense was futile as…

A resounding _crack _echoed, as the air itself ripped apart, with the atmosphere warping into roiling waves that engulfed all that remained of the slaughtered town, tearing apart everything like a shredder with tens, hundreds, thousands, no, an infinite number of blades.

In a single instant, the mediator's body disappeared, distorted, sliced, compressed, and diced apart—

—as Ciel, former Seventh of the Burial Agency was torn violently from her sleep.

* * *

**Residence of "Yumi Shierumiko", Tokyo-3**

Stifling the urge to scream, the mediator's body contorted as she was ripped back into consciousness, spasms and paroxysms of half-illusory pains wracking her body, searing through her nerves as she suffered in silence, save for the harsh panting of her breath as she fought to calm her body. The agonies of dying, without the comforting embrace of death—she was no stranger to these things, having been tortured many a time in her too-long life, and yet these dreams, these tortures not devised by others' hands but her own mind, were something she had never been able to cope with—possibly because the pain was not physical but mental, a wound upon her mind, and so even her nigh-perfect immortality was no protection.

It wasn't the first time she'd had nightmares of this sort, forced to relive the events which had first plunged her into this living hell of death and rebirth over and over again without exception or reprieve, though the details varied, particularly with regards to the method of death, where she either died from having her head ripped off, being burned to death, having her heart ripped out and crushed (a seeming favorite of the White Princess), or her body torn apart by the use of Marble Phantasm, blades of wind shredding her down to her constituent cells—and yet she always came back.

Still, not being ignorant as to how her body worked, Ciel had devised a method of dealing with said short-circuiting nerves and visions of the past. One she put into practice now, grabbing an empty sword hilt from her nightstand, passing prana through it to materialize a slim, rapier-like blade – and quickly reversing her grip on the weapon, thrusting it through her heart with practiced ease.

A soundless scream, as her body jerked and trembled at the sudden penetration, the Dokhma Sacrament added to the blade activating as she was pierced, sucking all moisture, all vitality from her body, reducing the physical shell in moments to a dehydrated husk—one, that at last, was still, her suffering at an end.

At least, an end that lasted till Seven, the immortal's long-suffering familiar, trod into the room and caught sight of her mistress' lifeless shell. She tensed at first, sharp eyes glancing about for any hint of an intruder, but relaxed after recognizing the weapon in Ciel's chest as one of the Executor's own blades, a look of almost-pity in her eyes.

'_Master had a particularly bad nightmare tonight. Mou…I guess I shouldn't bug her about carrots.'_

Shaking her head, the materialized spirit sandwiched the hilt of the Black Key between her hooves and _pulled_, drawing the blade from her mistress' chest with the rasping sigh of metal on bone-dry flesh. Moments later, Ciel stirred once more as time seemingly reversed itself, life and vitality returning to her body in seconds, the wound sealing up, her form regressed to its default state with but a shudder and a sigh.

'_So…I guess I don't get to die today either…' _she thought to herself, her body resetting itself completely, purging all traces of pain and confused thought, much like turning a machine off and then on again. Her eyes glanced over to her bedside to note the presence of her familiar, subtly thanking and dismissing the unicorn-spirit with a nod as she forced herself upright, bright in the darkness of the room. _'Which means that _he_ is still alive…'_

_He_, of course, being the Serpent of Akasha, the unnumbered Dead Apostle Ancestor Michael Roa Valdamjong, whose quest for eternity had led him first to trick the greatest of the True Ancestors into making him a Dead Apostle—and then further led him towards the study of reincarnation, transmitting his soul to a new host every time his current vessel died.

Such was how Elesia, a simple village girl with the misfortune of being the Infinite Reincarnator's 17th host, who had only wished to inherit her parent's bakery and live in peace, had become a vampire, as the parasite upon her soul awakened and took over, changing her into a bloodsucking monster whose rampage had killed all those she knew or cared for—with her nightmare only just beginning when Roa's ancient enemy caught up with her and ended her life.

'_To think I once welcomed death at that woman's hands…'_

When Arcueid had first killed her, ending her rampage as "Dark Elesia", all the girl had felt, looking upon the beautiful yet terror inspiring figure of her Executioner, was a profound sense of relief and even…gratitude. Driven to madness by the Serpent of Akasha, her hands forever stained with blood and her soul weighed down by sin, the girl named Elesia had died that day at the White Princess' hands—only to rise once more years later, torn from death's comforting embrace, thrust into hell over and over again—much of this from her erstwhile employer, the Holy Church.

When her body had first revived from death, she was immediately discovered by the custodians of the Holy Church, whose doctrines labeled her an abomination, with the head of the Burial Agency ordering the Executors and Buriers of Church to kill her for good. Standard operating procedure, since they hated the inhuman – particularly anything to do with vampires, and so it was only logical that they would eliminate any irregularities that they came across.

Or try, at least, for as it turned out, they could kill her, but she didn't like staying dead, so all the tortures and all the methods of killing simply burned themselves into her mind to be recollected at the most inconvenient times. Memories of razor wire, battery acid, shards of glass, arcing electricity between white-hot nails searing into skin and into the heart, decapitation, crushing of the head in a vise, gunpowder blowing up her body, being drawn and quartered, limbs thumping to floor as a fragrant bloom of blood sprayed like a fountain across the torture chamber—and quite a few that were…too unpleasant even to think about.

'_I would have been happy if something would have killed me, but…'_

Nothing worked. Not permanently, at least—and that was all that really mattered, her physical body rising again and again, even as her mind nearly broke from the tortures they inflicted upon her, the horrific hell of death and rebirth she was forced to relive over and over again, remaining sane by clinging to her deep-seated rage.

Mercy? Justice? Hope? None of those lies from her youth matter, mattered…only anger, only bitter rage, only blackest hate against those who had wronged her, and the promise that she would one day be able to exact vengeance on those who had wronged her. The Church which tortured her, Arcueid Brunestud who had first killed her, condemning her to his hateful existence, herself for being an inhuman monster, but most of all, the one who had twisted her into what she had become: Michael Roa Valdamjong.

Thus, when the Church had tired of their futile attempts to end her life and instead sought to use her as a tool, Ciel had embraced this fate, casting aside her identity as a human and turning herself into a machine whose reason for existence was the extermination of her ancient enemy, one who otherwise was dark and empty as the sky, for whom the future was but a mirage.

Code-named "Yumi" (a "bow", such as those used in archery), she became the Seventh of the Burial Agency, a merciless killer of the inhuman who did whatever it took to accomplish her goals, following what instructions she was given in order to earn the trust she needed to be sent after Roa, that one way or another, her hell would finally be at an end.

'_But things didn't work out that way,_' the former Burier thought rather bitterly as she stepped soundlessly out of bed, glancing critically over at the sheets and smiling thinly as she noticed no sign of blood. _'Shortly after I was finally assigned to hunt Roa, Second Impact came, and that was put on hold.'_

The ageless blunette padded over to the window of her above-ground residence in the outskirts of the city, looking out at the desolate vista outside Tokyo-3, recalling the dark days of war and battle that had swept across the world following the great cataclysm that had brought civilization to its knees, the dying days where starvation, war, and terror ran rampant among the few survivors, when the air itself grew poisonous to breath, the ground quaked and shook and buckled, destroying countless homes, disease spread as infrastructure failed…and amidst all of this confusion, the Dead Apostle Ancestors rose against one another in a civil war—though not before breaking the power of the Holy Church, which had been their greatest enemy for over two thousand years.

Swarms of ghouls running rampant through Rome, baying with bloodlust as they ripped any who stood in their way to shreds.

Dead Apostles mercilessly turning on their hunters, under the cover of the bloody sky, finding sport in hunting down the Church's Executors who had long plagued them.

Dead Apostle Ancestors and their dread Reality Marbles joining the fray – puppet castles, endless parades of one's most bitter enemies, black beasts swarming the streets all at once.

A momentary lull for a day, as the enemy forces seemed to withdraw—only to reveal that it was all part of a grand scheme, as that night, a living curse manifested itself, feasting on the terrors and suppressed fears of the populace…an endless TATARI.

Three long years of open warfare, fighting for survival –all to no avail, as Church Knights, Executors, Exorcists, Buriers all eventually succumbed to the press of numbers, their trump cards, so useful in one-on-one combat, proving less useful against armies of undead, against an enemy playing off of their fears, one they had no way to defeat.

Ciel's lips twisted into a scowl as she remembered a former colleague of hers, a certain treasure-collecting Dead Apostle Ancestor who had only joined the Church for access to their holy relics. Blessed with the power of demonition (the capacity to bring forth beings from the world of fairy tales), as well as materializing wishes to a limited scale, he was the Vatican's greatest defense against the Dead Apostles, whose Divine Beasts were each equal in power to an Ancestor.

But during the siege of the Vatican, the hour of the Church's greatest need, Merem Solomon, Dead Apostle Ancestor #20 and Fifth of the Burial Agency, disappeared with Gransurg Blackmore, the Lord of the Black Wing, to pursue his own agenda, his departure sealing the fate of Rome and all in it.

…all in it save her, since the former mediator was again, not very good at staying dead.

'_I suppose I cannot blame Merm, since he and I both had goals and objectives we kept private,'_ the former Burier mused, experimentally tensing and untensing her muscles as part of her morning routine, readying her body for the stresses and strains of another day. Given her jobs in this city, she hadn't gotten much sleep, but when did she, really? _'Out of all of us, he was the only one who wasn't a killing machine, atoning for one sin or another. Or so he pretended, at least.'_

Of course, in some ways they were very much alike – with one of them formerly tainted by the power of a Dead Apostle Ancestor, and the other a current member of the 27, inhuman beings connected by their pasts—and by interactions with the late Arcueid Brunestud.

Still, in the end, when Merm abandoned them, Ciel had realized that there was still some humanity left in her, expressed as hidden tenderness towards her colleagues which she would never admit, the proud few who stood their ground and faced death with defiance, facing down an enemy none could hope to defeat.

'_Once more, everyone around me died, leaving me alone,' _Ciel recalled, a very bitter expression flitting across her face as she involuntarily tensed. _'How…fitting for someone even death finds unworthy.'_

"Master…" a hesitant voice broke in, interrupting her line of thought. "Are you…troubled again?"

The immortal's expression faded to neutrality, as she forced herself to relax at the sound of her familiar's voice.

"Just thinking, Seven," she replied wryly, an answer that didn't reveal much at all. "Prepare my clothing for the day, if you would."

"…yes, Master," the spirit answered, disappearing from sight once again. Having spent a considerable number of years with around this particular user, "Seven" had by now learned to read her mistress' mood, finding that the powerful immortal was often haunted by visions of the past—and what was more, a stifling loneliness that had become more and more pronounced over the last half-decade.

After the fall of Rome, the one called Ciel had not been deterred from her course, raiding what was left of the Vatican's armory and taking what she could as she set off to continue her personal war against the Dead Apostle Ancestors, her robes weighed down by the Seventh Holy Scripture (the weapon that Seven was a manifestation of), Black Key hilts, and an odd rifle wrapped in a holy shroud.

For many years, she wandered, hunting the enemy where she could, searching for traces of her ancient foe when she could not amidst what few major population centers remained in the dying world, a desolate land where epidemics ran rampant among what few survivors remained, where food and water, once taken for granted, had become luxuries. Food poisoning, dysentery, typhoid, cancer…all these and more set in, just to name a few, with many of those displaced by war particularly affected. Sometimes it was natural – other times, it was due to one nation or another having deployed biological weapons, but in every case, it was exacerbated by the Grain (True Ether) in the air.

Through all of this, she watched, unable to do anything for those who suffered, for she existed as a weapon whose only purpose was to bring death.

The long war in the moonlit world continued, as factions of the Dead Apostles ran rampant and the Clock Tower fell after a long and bitter struggle, with the Association, too, rendered a shadow of its former self, and Ciel herself forced to turn to the knowledge of forbidden magecraft engraved upon her soul to defeat Valery Fernand Vandelstam, better known as the Dead Apostle Ancestor Van-Fem —though he apparently survived, as puppetmasters were wont to do.

She who had been Roa's 17th host had not wanted to draw upon the knowledge he imparted to her, as it was a reminder of her sins—but more than that, she did not wish to once more be defeated, and so had done whatever it took to gain victory—even if it had been a hollow one in the end, with the puppetmaster merely moving to another of his bodies.

Through the desert wastes, Ciel fought and fought and fought, passing through cities of the dead (and the Dead), through ghost towns and abandoned farmland, lifeless save for ghouls and corpses – meeting no one who knew her cause or could help in any way—until she met someone nearly as empty as she was, who had been broken and twisted by the cruel weight of reality and yet clung to one purpose, someone who became her partner for some time.

Unlike the former Burier, however, whose reason for living was simply that she might kill one person, the man she encountered (who to her amusement was sometimes referred to as "archer", just as she was an "archer's bow") lived for the purpose of trying to save everyone, as futile as it was, trying to fulfill the ideal of being a superhero.

He was a very strange man, in Ciel's opinion, and one who confused her greatly sacrificing himself for the sake of others, a nearly talentless magus who didn't really abide by what it meant to a magus at all, even if he did use a degraded copy of the First, forging himself into a body of swords, a hero who simply had no place in modern times. Instead of seeking personal gain, he did tough work for little reward, bearing the burdens of humanity upon his shoulders so that others would not have to: braving the wastes to delivering medical supplies to far-flung colonies of survivors, trying with blood, sweat and tears to save people from natural disasters or human folly, heading off territorial wars, retrieving dangerous artifacts before they could fall into the wrong hands, and more.

To this day, the last of the Church's mediators remembered her meeting with that man, having encountered one another while raiding the labyrinth of the vanished Caubac Alcatraz, the "Dead Apostle of the Millennium Lock." They had both set off there to retrieve or destroy the Holy Scripture Triten, an terminal similar to a Philosopher's Stone capable of realizing minor miracles, knowing that others sought it as well, and that such a thing could not save the world, but could do terrible things in the hands of those who wished ill, calling into existence any number of demonic beasts or Horrors that would drive one mad to look upon it.

'_Both of us were tempted by Alcatraz's treasure, but we could not take it with us, nor allow it to be captured…'_

A bitter realization, as one sought to use it to find her enemy, while the other wished to use it to try and bring peace to as many as he could—but they wished in vain, with Yumi having to use her sealed weapon to destroy the Holy Scripture and prevent Alcatraz' revival.

If one could not be saved, then kill one to save a hundred, killing ten to save a thousand – but what if there were none who could be saved? That was what the boy had been forced to confront in the wastelands, as he who only wanted to see those around him smile, to save those in his sight, was plunged into hell over and over again, surrounded by crying faces and lamentations.

Following that incident, she and he had traveled together for the better part of a decade, finding a way to pursue both their goals—using each other (on a number of levels) to deal with the loneliness within. She was unchanging, but not so he, whose red hair had been bleached white, golden eyes turned grey, skin permanently burned bronze from overuse of magecraft – the strain of living in an Ether-rich environment wearing upon him almost as much as seeing his ideals be twisted, almost as if much of what the man believed had been burned away by the flames of war and destruction that graced the world in which they lived.

'_Those few years, I did not dream of the past…'_

Almost as if her companion had been a sword that cut away her nightmares, for around him, she dreamt of swords and battle, of an endless graveyard of swords, a world as empty as her own with immense interconnected gears suspended in midair – a desert forge rife with the odd scents of steel, smoke and leather, reminding her of him, and how he was a machine as well, living only on a borrowed ideal.

She never admitted it, not to him, and certainly not to herself, but it was obvious that they needed one another in their brokenness. And so they sought one another for brief moments of physical comfort, nights of exhaustion in which they used each other roughly, so they would not dream of the past which so consumed them, that they could banish by moonlight the failures all too stark in light of day.

But that had been many years ago, with the two having parted ways shortly after the beginning of the decade – with the Executor to this sanctuary city, seeking out her enemy in a place where he would have to turn eventually, and the Magus to the desolate plains of North America, where the greatest devastation had taken place.

'_I wonder…where are you now, "Archer"?' _Ciel mused, her lips quirking into a more genuine—if pained—smile at that thought of him. She knew he was alive, due to the fact that they were joined by contract, with her supplying him with the prana he needed for his Reality Marble, but no details beyond that.

A foolish man who single-mindedly refined what little talent he had as the bone of his sword, wishing only to bring others salvation.

A foolish girl, gifted beyond most magi, possibly surpassing Lorelei Barthomeloi herself, if the latter yet lived, seeking only to bring an end to one.

The two were no different, seeking to atone for their various deeds—or lack thereof, both of them walking the path of the damned, footsteps of destruction echoing in the wake of those who were almost lovers in all but name. Yet their time came to an end, when several years ago, they parted ways, with he going to what remained of North America, the place hardest hit by the devastation, to see what good might be done, while she had turned to this Far Eastern country after hearing rumors about a now destroyed TATARI.

Ciel smiled ever so slightly, remembered still "Archer's" soft look as she presented him with a mantle and overcoat she had crafted from a holy shroud—a parting gift to protect him from the world without, as she knew that he would not protect himself. Swords were forged to be used, after all, not simply hidden away, as she and he knew better than anyone.

The rest was mere history as "Yumi Shierumiko" turned from the window to prepare for her day as a teacher of sorts, whose main responsibility was protecting the youth of Tokyo-3 from any incursions from Dead Apostles, as well as monitoring the well-being of the Children, particularly the First. Here was where the trail had ended years ago, and yet she was sure there was some clue, so she continued to search, to wait, to bide her time, walking onwards towards the end with a heavy heart and empty eyes, unable to die before her objective was complete.

It was just another day in this wasteland at the end of the world.

Just another day with no hope of salvation.

Just another day.

* * *

**Kokutou / Kamekura Living Quarters, Irin Associates, Tokyo-3**

The muted strains of Pachelbel's Canon in D mingled with the white noise of running water as Mana Ryougi washed the residue of yet another day from her body, relaxing in the privacy of the shower as droplets and rivulets of water ran down the curves of her lithe frame, rinsing off the foamy lather of soap and shampoo whipped up as she scrubbed, fingers gliding across flesh, stroking, kneading knots of tension from shoulders, a tiny gasp escaping lips as magic fingers did their work, examining the join of arm and body, washing the hair…

…and revealing the patchwork of scars on her back and abdomen, pale lines traced across her form, with one particularly vicious example stretching from just beneath her collarbone to just above her hip.

Scars that were each and every one earned in combat, for despite being the scion of a wealthy family and an Ether Knight, training in the combat techniques for almost ten years under the tutelage of her mother (who she hadn't yet been able to defeat before the latter disappeared), Mana was far from invulnerable—and even further from invincible, as the Ryougi heiress was unpleasantly reminded every time she looked in the mirror.

Some had been gifts of the roving undead that sometimes attacked Mifune, from long before she had awakened her ability to manipulate Ether. Much to her dismay, cold iron and sword techniques didn't really help one to deal with ghouls unless one had her mother's eyes, eyes that could see the death of anything that existed—or "Aunt" Fujino's, which allowed her to twist apart any enemy in a certain radius—even those out of sight.

'_It didn't help that my Knight Arm's passive ability was effectively immunity to magecraft—including healing magecraft,' _the Ryougi ruminated, sighing as the water dissolved knots of tension that had built up over time. _'Or that the hospital I was sent to filtered all the Ether from the air, so that my body couldn't use it to regenerate.'_

She didn't blame them for her scars, since no one had known of the existence of Ether Liners at the time—much less that she was one (since she'd only awakened to her powers two years before coming to Tokyo-3, and this incident had been far before that)—so it was impossible for them to have known that the generally toxic Ether would have helped her to heal, albeit not as quickly as Shinji, whose skin was yet unmarred, even after all the battles he'd gone through.

Sometimes, in her darker moments, she envied him for that—and for the fact that he, who had never bested her in sparring or in combat against the undead, had nonetheless managed to defeat two terrible foes that she had utterly failed against…defeating the first of these, the one that had given her the worst of her scars when he first awakened his Knight Arm little over a year ago. Mana didn't know how he had won, just that he had, for otherwise, she would have surely died that day.

'_We were playing by the river, walking on opposite banks, with me practicing my sword forms with my Knight Arm while I moved—and then _it_ appeared, rising from the water as if drawn by the concentrated Ether in me…'_

A horse-sized arachnid seeming wrought of metal and blue flame, whose very presence jarred the senses with impossible angles, a powerful sense of wrongness, and a screeching like a symphony of rent metal_—_a creature that one could not run from, had to fight. In mere moments after surfacing, it had charged at her, silvery serpentine whip-blades erupting from its outer hide, seeking to skewer her where she stood…

…only for Mana to meet it blade to blade, movements flowing like water as she countered the savage onslaught of silver with her ebon katana, her clear blue eyes hard with resolve as her weapon carved jet-black arcs through the air as she attempted to get close enough to bisect the enemy before her. Her dedication to her training showed in that battle, allowing her to fend off that monstrosity—for a time at least, but in sad truth, she had been overmatched. If she was fierce and precise as the cutting razor wind, then it was simply overwhelming, like a divine wind, striking from multiple angles, multiple sides, increasing the ferocity of its assault as she continued to resist.

She tried as best she could to damage it, to do what she did best as a demon hunter, even shifting into her quieter, more murderous personality—but though she did some surface damage, she eventually failed to stop two of the enemy's strikes, twin whip-swords of liquid metal slamming into her body, slashing her from hip to collarbone even as she managed to sever one—and Shinji screamed, a bellow of agonized rage that sent a shiver down her spine.

The Ryougi heiress didn't remember much of what had happened next, given that she had been thrown to the ground, her body reeling from shock as slivers of liquid metal deposited within her wound burst into a frenzy of growth, feeding from her Ether reserves to fuel their explosion into jagged crystals tearing into her flesh, almost as if attempting to consume her from within, turning her into a copy of the spider.

All Mana knew was that there had been a soul-crushing chill, as if something had drained all the happiness from the world, with the surface of the river freezing over, the spider halting its advance, powerful legs flowing to meet a greater threat…and then everything had gone dark.

Neither of them talked about that day much, with Shinji only mentioning that he didn't remember what he'd done, or the aftermath, when she had been bedridden for nearly two months, hanging in the balance between life and death—and that was after emergency surgery to excise the crystal spores—with a weeping Shinji at her bedside, hollowly repeating what seemed an endless litany of apologies.

It was why didn't like to see him morose and apologizing for things—because it reminded her of when she herself had been helpless, unable to talk and tell him that it wasn't his fault, that he couldn't have known that he possessed the power of an Ether Knight…so why was he blaming himself, punishing himself for so many imagined wrongs? Yes, he had hung back and hadn't tried to help; yes, he hadn't gone for help…but what would have either have accomplished? Attacking the liquid-metal arachnid without a great enough ability would only have gotten him killed, and help probably wouldn't have arrived in time.

As it was, he'd saved her life, something for which Mana was profoundly grateful—hence his apologies disturbed her, as he seemed to be apologizing for either not getting himself killed or for saving her—and she didn't know which she thought was worse.

'_And he's still doing it,'_ Mana thought with more than a little exasperation, remembering the fight against the Third Angel. _'This time I could blame him if I really wanted to, since now he knows that he too has the power of an Ether Knight, but I'm not. It's easy to freeze up in the presence of an overwhelming enemy—that's why we train, because in battle, it's usually not the bravest fighters who manage to fight off their fear, but the ones who have internalized their training.'_

A spray of warm water washed off the last of the lather, as the Ether Knight reached up and turned off the flow, shrugging her shoulders and stretching as she reached over for a towel, patting herself dry. Not for the first time, she reflected on what a strange place Tokyo-3 was in terms of what was available and how many people there were—and also how odd the name of "Mana Kamekura," her cover identity, seemed to her ears. The Ryougi heiress rather liked her real name, but she knew all too well that if it were known she was the daughter of the head of Shiki Ryougi, the one who had slain the TATARI (among other things), several factions would want to either use her or kill her. And though she was rather confident in her ability to fight off most assailants, why expose herself to more danger when she already had one of the most dangerous jobs in the city?

In the past few days, given time to think, Mana had already identified some oddities about those in Tokyo-3, with her time spent with her father and with Mitsuru-san, helping her to discern when things weren't quite as neatly put together as others might hope to convince her.

For one thing, why were some of those at NERV so interested in Shinji, and why go through the trouble of separating them? She knew that they were likely curious about his odd power and his regeneration abilities, but…was there something more to it? Isolating him wasn't necessary, was it? And why emotionally blackmail Shinji by bringing out the First Child when she was also an Ether Knight?

'_Curiouser…'_

And then, there was the attack itself—why had the Angel chosen here to attack, where the Ether Knights were based? While granted, it could have been to destroy a major population center, why did happen to be the one where NERV was based at? Why not one of the other remaining Geofronts instead?

'…_and curiouser.'_

As her father would have said, the truth was usually layers beneath the obvious, and if one wanted to see past basic facts and draw better conclusions about the picture, one often had to dig. Even Touko-san had praised Mikiya's investigative ability, and the puppetmaster was not an easy one to wring praise from.

Which made it all the more interesting that the Aozaki had given Aunt Azaka a Thaumaturgical Crest, containing some of her Magic Circuits and her spell knowledge – a gift for her successor, the puppet mistress had said. It made Mana wonder if there was something more to it, as she finished drying herself off, pulled on a new school uniform of teal dress over a white blouse and red ribbon, and finished preparing to head out into the streets.

This early, just after sunrise, the surface levels of Tokyo-3 were all but deserted, with utter silence greeting her as she stepped into the chill morning air, breathing deeply of the Ether and wondering just how many Section 2 agents she'd be able to pick out of the crowds today—it wasn't too hard to identify bodyguards if one knew what to look for – the signs of training, the slightly more confident or watchful postures, the tendency to keep a certain distance from those they were protecting. And if anyone, Mana certainly knew the signs, given that she was somewhat used to observation. At least it had been so in the early years, before she had begun training in earnest under her mother's…sometimes brutal tutelage, earning great independence in latitude as her skill developed.

'_Be it as the heiress of a criminal syndicate or just a powerful family…I do know the feeling.'_

Still, whatever her feelings might be, Section 2 was there to stay, so with a smile and a little nod in the direction of at least of her watchers—even a cheeky wave to one, the Ether Knight set off towards the nearest NERV entrance for a few hours of training, and then something much more intimidating: her first time going to school.

* * *

**NERV HQ, Tokyo-3**

After arriving at NERV HQ, the Third and Fourth Children proceeded to the locker rooms, where they had donned their special training uniforms (skin-tight but still comfortable jumpsuits inscribed with what seemed like circuitry), and had proceeded from there to the dojo environment, where they greeted one another as customary in the mornings—hand to hand and blade to blade, helping the other rise to wakefulness rather quickly, if any fatigue yet remained. There were few things more taxing on the body than the rigors of combat, as it was a high-stress situation demanding one be in tune with the flow of battle, simultaneously reading an opponent's moves, reacting accordingly, countering, and considering the environment as a whole.

Taxing for most, anyway, especially not long after awakening at dawn—but not for the Children, who found it bearable enough, given that it was a part of the routine that the two were used to from their time in Mifune—and harsher instructors than one another by far.

_Clack! Crash! Clash! _

Theirwooden practice blades struck one against the other, seeking out weaknesses, parrying, probing defenses, rebuffing probes, sometimes feinting, sometimes defending, sometimes launching an all-out offensive that left one or the other winded, purposely throwing in a little variation to their techniques to keep the other guessing—though adaptation came easily enough, given how well they knew each other, and the styles both were most adept with.

That…and neither wanted to deal with any more pain than was necessary, and so paid attention to one another's movements, reading the angle of strikes, crashing their blades faster and faster to create the frenzied cacophony of bokken on bokken as they moved, pushing each other to the limit of speed and endurance. Had it been a life or death battle, things might have been different, but it wasn't; here, they were merely testing one another, preparing one another for the next part of their training.

_Ding-dong!_

Before they knew it, the hour was up, with an automated chime set by the MAGI alerting the two sweat-soaked teens to proceed to the Ether room for Stage II of their daily training.

As opposed to the "Stage II" that had taken place in their first session with Misato, where the magus had had the two come at her one at a time to test their combat talents for themselves, the more standard "Stage II" was something a little less physically intensive, with their task to summon and maintain their Knight Arms for varying lengths of time in environments with varying amounts of Ether, helping both Children to build up control over their abilities—while sparring one another again, of course, for another half hour.

Observers would have found this scene much more eerie, as both Children moved with a speed and fluidity that they had not in sparring, a deadly dance of shadows and drawn blades, testing one another, coming together, pulling apart, katana and twin short-swords, winter and old night, nearly silent, save for the warring cries of their demonic blades, one crying out for blood, the other drinking in all sound, one edged with an eerie blue, the other drinking in all light.

It helped that the Fourth had been instilled with the Ryougi family's self-hypnosis ability to improve her skills while holding a sword—and that Shinji apparently gained heightened combat instincts whenever his Knight Arm was released, reaction time speeding up, speed and power increasing for both as the dueled, monitored by the MAGI through the suits they wore.

It was already known that Shinji's output capacity was rather large, from his time in combat, but gathered data had also found that it was somewhat erratic, his strength closely tied to his emotional state. Mana's, on the other hand, had a much lower ceiling, but was much more controlled—with the added benefit of being able to negate magecraft…or barriers like AT fields, given enough effort—perhaps tied to her heritage as a Demon Hunter, perhaps not.

Either way, the information gathered in these daily battles helped to shape the combat profiles of the Children, which were vitally important for the last part of NERV's training program.

_Brring! _

Another chime, this time signaling the end of Stage II, as both Children broke off from their latest sequence of attacks and dispelled their Knight Arms, taking a moment to stop and catch their breaths.

'_Another simulation today,'_ Shinji thought to himself, his breathing deep and ragged from the earlier exertions. _'I almost wish that we were fighting Misato again…'_

For Misato and PenPen sometimes showed mercy, gave breathers, held back to test them at an appropriate level—all very human mannerisms. The Angels in the simulations did none of these, but then, they weren't supposed to.

'_I wonder what Dr. Akagi has in store for us today,'_ the Fourth mused, as she slowly slipped back into her normal state with a heavy sigh, her own breaths slow and very, very controlled, much like the rest of her, no matter how much she wanted to pant. She had to set an example for her gloomy companion and friend, after all. _'Just facing the Angel again was difficult enough…but she did promise to make things more difficult.'_

"Ready…partner?" Mana quipped, flashing a reassuring smile as she looked at the panting form of the Third Child. To her mild relief, he seemed to be settling in decently, his time in the Katsuragi apartment not having seriously impacted his health—though she suspected that was as much due to the fact that he was cooking and keeping the place relatively clean in exchange for an added stipend. Misato's cooking…well, the Fourth Child didn't like to think about her one time tasting that, wondering idly if the magus' origin was "ruin" or something of the such in order to be able to turn even an instant snack to inedible sludge.

'…_or maybe she has a stomach made of pure Ether…'_

"…alright then," Shinji replied after a moment, giving his childhood friend a wan smile, gesturing for her to go first—which she did, after pantomiming a curtsey.

Once more they proceeded through the metallic corridors of NERV, with a lightstrip embedded in the wall lighting up faintly to guide them from the dojo to the synch room—a chamber of pure, blank white, with a small recess in the wall containing the neural interface headsets they would require for the exercise, and three small beds for them to rest their physical selves upon while their mental avatars were elsewhere.

Nodding to one another, proceeded to the bed and lay down, putting on the A-10 neural clips that interfaced them with the system…as reality _shifted, _with the two of them aloft in the air in their EVANGELION Assault Armors, hers charcoal grey accented with silver, and his pitch black, with the surface levels of Tokyo-3 stretching out beneath them.

**Rumble. Rumble. Rumble.**

But there was no time to admire the view, as first of their "Angelic" foes rose from the watery depths, with sheets of falling water around it emitting a crash reminiscent of shattering glass. Once more, it was the immense vaguely humanoid creature, with bony structures emerging on its shoulders and torso, and a distinctive beaked face that struck terror into the minds of all that saw it—but the similarities to their first opponent ended, as this variant boasted energy whips from its arms, an AT field so strong that it distorted light, and—

_WHOOSH-BOOM!_

—loosed cross-flares with greater frequency and power than the Third Angel had.

'_Whips,' _Mana groaned, even as she prepared to attack, diving out of the way of a lance of light hurled in her direction, a shaft meant to herd her towards a massive tendril of energy that sought to tear her in two. '_…why did it have to be whips?'_

In NERV's thinking, it would do no good to simply fight replicas of the Third Angel, since the odds that any foe would be exactly the same as the ones before were slim, and so had the MAGI create variations on the Angel with differing abilities, depending on the Children's weaknesses and projected adaptations the Angels might display—adaptations such as more powerful energy beams, a greater frequency of spontaneously generating weaponry, energy whips, cutting arms, and yes, more powerful AT-fields.

For only variety and the unexpected would push the Children, surprising them and forcing them to learn how to coordinate attacks, to better use their armors, to fight tooth-and-nail with their backs up against a wall, surpassing their limits in the heat of battle.

'_I mustn't run away…not that it would do any good here,'_ Shinji grumbled in his mind, assessing the threat level of this particular enemy and wishing that he had a long-range attack option…which he didn't, unfortunately. With two short swords…he'd have to get quite close, and he couldn't consciously draw enough power to sunder an AT Field just yet.

"This time, I'll play decoy…you attack," the Third Child noted, slipping into combat mode. "You have the best chance of piercing that AT Field…"

Left unspoken was the fact that he didn't want to see Mana hurt again—even if this was only a simulation. He had failed her too many times before…he would not do it again.

"…and it will see you as a bigger threat due to your raw power," the Fourth completed, finishing Shinji's thought. "Very well, acknowledged."

Vectoring on plumes of darkness towards the evil-shaped form too massive to compare, the two Children made ready for their assault, even as their enemy bellowed in challenge, redoubling the volume of its attacks.

'_I will not run away.'_

* * *

**Ether Ward, NERV Medical, Tokyo-3**

Following the completion of their grueling training exercises (including the viewing of themselves in combat after the fact, with a MAGI-generated analysis of their actions and suggested improvements), and the ritual of washing up and changing to get all the grime and perspiration off their sweat-slicked bodies (it just wouldn't do to reek of…their heated exertions all day, after all, since most people weren't used to such things), the Third and Fourth Children had decided to visit Rei Ayanami, since they would be working with her, and it was more than a little disturbing that they knew so little about her.

Fortunately, NERV Medical hadn't exactly been too hard to find, since they had run into the somewhat frazzled Maya Ibuki, who had helpfully given them directions as to where to go, all the while seeming torn between being delighted to offer assistance and being slightly intimidated around the two Children.

No surprise, really, given that within their small frames lurked enough power to make a N2 mine look anemic in comparison, power that could bring either salvation or destruction at the whim of the user. And though Mana and Shinji weren't exactly reckless about using their abilities, Lt. Ibuki and most of the command staff, had borne witness to how the Third had gone berserk in battle, tearing an _Angel_ apart with manifested rage. The Fourth's ability to cut open an Angel's AT Fields, barriers which even the most powerful conventional explosives could not even dent, with the application of some effort was no less intimidating, and to her mind, these were not people one wanted to risk annoying, even if the Children were both rather soft-spoken and genuinely nice people when not thrust into life-and-death battles.

Dealing with the First Child had been one thing, since the blue-haired girl had always seemed perfectly calm…and Maya had had a few years to acclimate to her presence, given humanity's ability to adapt to most things. These new Children though…it would take time.

Not that such a reaction was anything new to either Mana or Shinji, who knew full well why such things were often kept concealed from those not part of the moonlit world, having seen horrors that would scar even the most well-adjusted—and if anything, they were far from completely well-adjusted.

The two were quiet as they walked together, not really needing any words, though Mana's hand did brush against Shinji's reassuringly when he shuddered, coming within sight of the Ether Ward's airlock—one which hissed open as they arrived, with Dr. Akagi and a young woman about their age, whose looks were somewhat reminiscent of Mana's, stepping out of it, the two discussing something about "A-Rays", "recreation of form" as opposed to "regeneration", and something about a "Fifth."

'_A specialist, perhaps?' _the Fourth Child wondered, eying the strange pair as they disappeared into the distance. '_One of Dr. Akagi's assistants?'_

"Mana? Is something wrong?" Shinji asked, hesitantly putting a hand on his friend's shoulder to get her attention.

"Hmm, oh, don't worry, Shinji-kun, I was just thinking about things," the Ryougi heiress said reassuringly, flashing him one of her warm smiles. "Shall we go?"

With that, the two cycled through the airlock, and entered a place whose ceiling was unfortunately not unfamiliar—the ward in which they had stayed during their convalescence after the battle against the Third Angel, passing the door of their room, footsteps echoing down the empty hallway as they came at last to the room of Rei Ayanami.

A plain room, a sterile white without boundaries, almost disorienting. The bed, the sheets, the walls, floor, even the ceiling were a blank, featureless white broken only by the red eyes and blue hair of the enigmatic First Child, who stirred as the Ether Knights entered her room, regarding them with her eerie crimson eyes.

Mana smiled slightly as she saw that the First was looking somewhat healthier, having regained consciousness at last, her wounds mostly knitted up, though hints of scarring could be seen on alabaster pale skin.

"Hello Ayanami-san. My name is Mana Ryougi, the Fourth Child," the demon hunter girl noted, her instincts reacting with strange flash of half-recognition.

"And, uh, I'm Shinji Ikari, the Third," Shinji said weakly, still not that great at interacting with others his age. Dealing with Mana was one thing, since he'd spent much time around her, but given the low birth rates since Second Impact, it was very rare to meet anyone else—especially someone as exotic looking as Rei Ayanami, whose appearance was quite striking. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ayanami-san."

Unfortunately, their more or less enthusiastic overtures were not quite requited.

"What is your purpose here?"Rei Ayanami asked impassively, not used to human interactions, much less someone simply introducing herself. She took in the presence of both the one who had shielded her from debris, and the one who had taken her place in battle. Why had they seen a need to do so? Her purpose was to be a weapon, to fight the Angels, nothing more and nothing less, so why had they bothered?

"I…we…" Shinji began, though he obviously was having some trouble speaking—something Ayanami found odd, considering that the atmospheric mix should be within acceptable parameters for a Liner, to say nothing of a Knight.

"We were hoping that we could be friends," the raven-haired girl broke in gently, even as Shinji glanced at her with a profoundly grateful look.

Friends?

In all her life, Rei Ayanami had never had anything like a friend, since such things were extraneous to her purpose. Formal relationships, those between superior and subordinate, wielder and weapon, teacher and student, were much more to her preference, as she knew how to behave. Anything else was …irrelevant.

"Why…?" she questioned, her tone bland and uncaring, though she didn't quite dismiss the suggestion out of hand.

A few moments of silence, as Mana considered what to say, before finally settling on: "Because we are the only ones who might truly understand one another."

In response, Rei Ayanami blinked. Once.

An odd statement, coming from a human –and yet the two in front of her weren't quite human, isolated from their brethren by their roles and abilities.

"At least…consider it, Ayanami-san?" the Third Child added weakly, producing two carefully folded paper flowers which he placed on the First's bedside, drawing her scrutiny. There was not much color in the post-Second Impact world, since flowers no longer readily bloomed.

This time, she said nothing, merely giving a small, nearly imperceptible nod.

* * *

**Tokyo-3 Area Junior/Senior High School**

For the Children, the most nerve-wracking event of the day was not meeting Rei Ayanami, as odd and distant as she had seemed. It was not the battles against simulated monsters that left them sore and often beaten, nor the early morning spars against one another, against which they could unleash their full conscious force—that much was even therapeutic in a way. And it certainly wasn't walking through the crowds in the GeoFront on the way to school, even if the large masses of people reminded them uncomfortably of night of blood and flashing steel, when ghouls had swarmed through the streets of Mifune, only to be cut down by the Demon Hunters.

No, the most stressful event was going to school for the first time, with both of them overwhelmed by the experience of being around so many people their own age. For neither Mana nor Shinji had ever attended a proper school before, instead learning from private tutors or via through lessons held in virtual classrooms, since the precipitous drop in birthrate had made physical schools uneconomical in most places, including Mifune. Only a very few cities—most of the sanctuary cities, still had dedicated educational facilities, with Tokyo-3's one of the largest.

Still, if they could defy angels and demons, fight the undead and master the intricacies of the world of night, then surely school couldn't be too bad, could it?

Or so they wondered as they met with their teacher (who Mana and Shinji both recognized from having seen her around Mifune—though not in a teacher's capacity) and the class representative, who was rather genial and welcoming, as if she'd welcomed many new students to Tokyo-3 (which she'd probably had, given that it was a slowly burgeoning city, after all—even with the prospect of war looming, since nowhere else was safe).

More official paperwork was taken care of, the Children were assigned their laptops (for writing essays and research) and e-readers (electronic textbooks) as school supplies, and then they had filed after "Shierumiko-sensei" (or Ciel-sensei, as Mana thought privately to herself, recalling an earlier encounter with the woman) to the classroom, where the two of them now stood, facing down curious stares and whispers from students in rows upon rows of seats—more than Mana had seen before in her life.

'_Some of them are probably curious about new faces…and others, maybe about the timing.'_

Still, it wouldn't do to freeze up in the face of all this attention, so with a glance at her partner, she stepped forward, giving the assembled class her most dazzling smile.

"Hello everyone!" she said with a slight bow, subtly looking over everyone in the room to get an impression of who they were. This would be an interesting challenge. "My name is Kamekura, Mana Kamekura. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

"And I'm…Ikari. Shinji Ikari," the Third Child added, giving a nervous smile of his own. "Please take good care of me."

* * *

**Louvre's Citadel, Norway**

For the first time in several hundred years, the Dead Apostle Louvre found himself afraid of death, uncertain of survival in the face of the situation he was facing, a situation so absurd that he would have found it almost humorous, if it were not happening to him. Barely able to keep himself from shaking, stood in the throne room of his castle, grasping his most powerful Mystic Codes in his hands as he stood beside his children, so that their combat power might exponentially increase while fighting together.

Against most foes, it would have been more than adequate, verging on overkill. Against the unknown that was ripping apart his citadel, though, the ancient vampire feared it wouldn't even make her pause.

Five hundred years had Louvre lived, personally drinking the blood of five thousand people and infecting many times more, turning them into Dead or subservient Apostles. While not on the level of an Ancestor, he was still a force to be reckoned with, having taken advantage of the civil war of the Dead Apostle Ancestors to gather power to himself, restlessly stealing mystic codes, conceptual weapons, and the treasures of his fallen compatriots…with his greatest regret not being able to claim the Holy Scripture Triten, an artifact which would have given him the power to contend with any of the Twenty Seven on equal footing.

In the past, even though Ancestors might be slain, the Eclipse Princess of Black Blood had always warned the Twenty Seven of a possible demise within their ranks, that a replacement might be found. But now, in the great war of the Ancestors, she had fallen silent, and slowly the ranks were truly thinned for the first time, factions eliminated as all devolved to chaos. Ancestor rose against Ancestor without successors in place, terrible powers contending for diminished resources, the power vacuum of their passing allowing some of the stronger Apostles to prosper from their leavings.

In such a time, what had he to fear? He had made no pressing enemies, joined with no factions, instead taking the time to extend his reach to places where the others had no intention of controlling, expanding his power as an immortal monster with layers upon layers of diabolical magic.

In these hundreds of years, his home castle had never been found or assaulted, enshrouded by darkness as it was, concealed by shadows, by a longing for rationally, by fear towards the taboo—only showing itself to those he considered friends or guests. Multiple layers of bounded fields protected his fortress, rendering it a sanctuary akin to the alternate world of the faeries, a castle of delusions that had avoided countless armies of heretic hunters in its centuries of existence.

It had been the proof of an untouchable indestructibility, that his prosperity would be everlasting…

…until now.

With a thunderous _CRASH_, multiple layers of bounded fields had fallen in an instant, without any warning or sign of an attack force in the area. The Clock Tower had fallen, so too the Holy Church, and there were no Ancestors who knew of his location, so who…

_Whump._

First the fields, then the outer walls collapsed, the sentries who had once defended them ripped limb from limb by an invisible wave of force, axes of rotation that twisted their bodies apart, tearing off their heads, as ash rained down into the central keep.

_Rumble._

The inner walls now, and every door separating inside from out, with a beautiful grim reaper clad in bone-white robes advancing through the newly crafted opening, terrible eyes stark against the darkness of the night, a sword in her hand.

A fierce battlecry, the loosing of great forbidden magics, a last show of defiance in the face of destruction…

…all for naught, as a silver line of light returned a half-millennium to nothingness.

* * *

A/N: If you're wondering about the ORT-alike, they're essentially spores of Type-Mercury that have grown in the Ether environment of Earth, scattered during Second Impact when Arcueid destroyed the main body of ORT - but not its core. Think of them like the "angels" from the World Trees of Type-Venus, only much more deadly in combat. In other news, feedback is always welcome, and encouraged, so if you have any questions, comments, or even complaints, feel free. Thanks for reading!


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